Canvas of Scars
by Apatija
Summary: Go with the Flow/Rectified Mistakes is now one series . Fighting each other because of the past, because of rivalry, because of fear, because of status. Power is everything right? Warning: femslash, foursome, Brit/Quinn/Rach/Sant. Mild Sub/Dom
1. Go with the Flow

A/N: This started out as a one - shot. I know have at least two more sequels planned lol This has become epic. So I've decided not to kid myself and properly named this one fic. Sorry for any confusion, I have just combined "Go with the Flow" and "Rectified Mistakes" as part of one fic. I am currently almost finished the third part.

Hope you enjoy :) Please review.

And a note to any fans of my other work, if you want to know why I've been gone for so long, check out my profile :)

* * *

Quinn Fabray was furious.

It had started out like a typical evening of studying and Cheerio choreography. They made a bed of blankets on the floor in the evening with Quinn in the center of the bed. She woke up in the middle of the night shocked to find that she was no longer between them and that what had woken her was an odd whimpering sound behind her. They were making out!

Were they insane? They hadn't any alcohol, Quinn was sure of that since Brittany's mother didn't keep anything around. They were a respectable Christian family and Quinn would have neither been allowed nor inclined to want to sleep over unless they were to be trusted. The parents were out of the house, but that shouldn't have been a problem. There had been sleepovers for years and nothing like this had ever happened.

Now Quinn was desperately trying to figure out what to do while Santana and Brittany made _noises_. Completely inappropriate sighing noises. And someone kept brushing up against her back! The outrage was so sharp she wanted to smother them both with her pillow.

Really, it was stupid. She'd seen the two make out after a few drinks to impress the guys. She did not approve but it was the typical thing girls did. Quinn herself had enough status and power within the school that she did not need to resort to such pathetic endeavours for attention. If anything, she had to actively seek out ways to not garner attention. Making out with another girl was beneath her.

But to do this while she was the only one in the room? Sober? That was unacceptable.

"_Oh. God...."_

"_Shhhhh"_

Blood rushed to her head. They weren't making out. Quinn's jaw went slack from surprise. Her body heat rose and she felt a little dizzy, parts of her brain misfiring. She could have sworn Santana just shushed Brittany but that was ridiculous. They would _never_ do this to her. It was social suicide of epic proportions. No one would ever willingly let Quinn Fabray grab this much ammunition. She had to be hallucinating.

There was another noise. A slow, wet sloshing to go with the uneven breathing.

Now she was mortified and sickened. There was a pulse between her legs that aggravated her. Her body was betraying her and she fought it desperately, trying to work up the courage to tell them to stop. To let them know she was awake so they could thankfully cease and desist.

Brittany's breath hitched as Santana must have done something particularly interesting.

Quinn contemplated jumping out the window, turning around and slapping them, or just kicking the person now writhing behind her. She was offended that this somehow turned her body on. She was also angry that they would violate her trust in them this way. And a small part of herself - that she struggled to ignore – was scandalized that Quinn Fabray was being ignored. She was the one in charge. She called all the shots. Her name, face and body were enough to get her anything she wanted from people. Though she tried not to be too prideful or vain, she knew she was hot and desirable. People wanted sex with Quinn; they did not have sex and ignore her when she was right next to them.

"_Oh... oh oh-" _

Brittany suddenly went muffled, like she was gagged. Quinn felt her blush deepen and she broke out into a sweat as she could hear them start moving faster. She tried to zone them out but her eyes shot open wide and she felt herself grow very wet as Brittany's breathing went sharp and ragged, breaking off into a strangled moan and all movement went still.

Quinn's own body finally relaxed when everything went quiet, though she was still horrified by the steady throbbing between her legs. She tried to dismiss it as her being a virgin and therefore easily aroused by anything.

"_My turn...."_ She could hear the smirk in Santana's voice and she stifled the urge to groan in exasperation. The sexual frustration was bad enough as it was and now she felt stupid trying to interrupt them this late.

"_Umm... but what about Quinn?"_

"_What about Quinn? She sleeps like a fucking log, you know that."_ There was some shifting.

"_Oh I know.... but...."_

"_But what?"_

"_Well she's awake now and I feel bad cause she can't sleep. Can we move to another room?"_

Quinn was certain that she and Santana had never been more in sync than they had been at that moment. Both went rigid, minds went blank and both needed a minute to reassess the situation. Quinn probably ruined that moment went she started internally screaming with embarrassment.

No one said anything. Quinn because she was humiliated, Santana because she was stricken and Brittany because she was comfortably waiting for a response. She was sated so she was not particularly worried, though she wanted to take care of Santana too.

Everyone was basically waiting for Quinn. Quinn was trying to play dead. It only prolonged her suffering but she really had no idea what else to do.

It was then Santana gathered her bearings and made a decision. She trusted Brittany's assertion that the head cheerleader was awake. Brittany could be scarily sharp sometimes.

They could all pretend nothing happened and she would have to bear the burden of Fabray having enough ammunition to obliterate her status at school. Hoping Quinn would – out of the kindness of her cold heart – keep their secret. Or Santana had to level the playing field. Santana didn't trust Quinn. They weren't very good friends and it frustrated her to no end that the other girl bested her in every damn thing and was in control of everyone. People submitted to Quinn, herself included. It pissed her off because she never saw herself as weak or compliant.

Quinn made a surprised choking noise when she suddenly found herself flat on her back with Santana straddling her waist. The Latina had been wearing a pair of short shorts before bed but was now only clad in her thong and t-shirt.

"What the hell are you doing?!" She hissed, forgetting she was supposed to pretend she had been asleep the whole time.

Santana liked the look of Quinn in that moment. Eyes wide as saucers, arms curled protectively around herself, so nervous and confused, it made Santana feel more confident.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"What?!"

"Santana wants to know why you didn't let us know you were awake. We would have stopped you know." Quinn jerked her head away from the sight of Santana's smug little grin to see Brittany watching her with mildly amused eyes. She had propped herself up on an elbow wearing nothing but her bra. Quite literally, she was only wearing a bra.

Quinn's Christian mind had a conniption.

"Why the hell didn't you stop when you knew I was awake?" she shot back, still completely disoriented by the situation.

"Don't yell at her." Santana warned, her eyes narrowing. Before Quinn could retort Brittany got up on her knees and ran a soothing hand along Santana's arm.

"It's alright. She's just uncomfortable because she's never had to deal with this kind of thing before." She turned to Quinn when Santana's shoulders relaxed. "I'm sorry Quinn, I was distracted. Besides when you didn't tell us to stop I figured you must not mind so much."

"Mind? Mind that my friends are going lesbo right next to me while I sleep? Now why would I mind that? Have you both lost your minds? This-this-this is wrong!" She sputtered as Santana rolled her eyes.

"We aren't lesbians ok? We like to have sex."

"And normally you sleep right through it. You're such a heavy sleeper Quinn."

Quinn gaped at the blonde.

"Wha – how? How many times have... What?"

Santana could see that Brittany wasn't really helping matters. She needed to take matters into her own hands.

"Quinn you didn't stop us because you liked it." She didn't have Brittany's knack for reading people but she figured that since Brittany wasn't correcting her she was right. But she had to continue before the throbbing vein that suddenly appeared on Quinn's forehead burst.

"It's like this... it's not even real sex you know, no penis or anything. We're allowed to have sex with girls."

"No you're not!" Quinn snarled. "That is not how it works and you know it."

"Oh give me a break, it releases tension ok? Not everyone can be as frigid as you are Quinn; some of us have needs and don't want to pray before kissing on the cheek." She ground herself into Quinn's hips for effect and was startled when the head cheerleader inhaled sharply and arched her back.

"Hmmm.... maybe not so frigid...." Santana trailed off, a familiar heat building at the crux of her thighs while Quinn fought the disturbing sensations that assaulted her.

"What-" but she didn't get to finish her thought because Santana was suddenly pinning her arms down at her sides and was kissing her.

It was a vicious, angry kiss that would leave Quinn's lips swollen and bruised. The ferocity surprised her and her mouth parted involuntarily allowing the Latina room for her tongue. Her feelings were a jumbled cacophony each one demanding her attention until she could no longer understand herself. She wanted to convince herself she wasn't enjoying it, to tear Santana to pieces for trying this on her and at the same time she wanted to jerk Santana closer. Her body hummed with lust while Santana dominated the kiss, it was like nothing she had ever felt before. Finn was adorable but for the first time prayer was the last thing on her mind.

Everything about her life was restriction, inhibition and control of herself and others. Santana was trying to take control from her and in a moment of pure senility it suddenly became very important to Quinn that she take charge. What they were doing didn't matter; all that mattered was who came out on top.

Santana made a noise of surprise, vaguely aware of Brittany's gasp, when Quinn deftly flipped their positions in one fluid move. People take for granted just how fit and flexible one has to be as Head Cheerleader.

When Santana opened her eyes she was infuriated. She was on her back, her legs wrapped around Quinn's hips and she didn't even have enough time to realise the head Cheerio had already pinned her arms above her head.

"Wow." She could hear Brittany sigh and it only pissed her off more that the girl she slept with would react that way to her rival.

Quinn hovered over her, her delicate, almost aristocratic features nicely defined by the street light coming in from the window. She was wearing a shirt and pyjama shorts but she radiated a thick air of confidence that can only come from having tasted true power. Any taste Santana ever had was Quinn's leftovers or whatever crumbs the head cheerleader deigned to allow her.

Quinn sneered at her, rolling her hips like a feral cat and hitting Santana in just the right spot. She gasped and as much as she hated Quinn in that moment she instinctively responded to the other girl's presence. Her defiance fizzled away and she turned her head slightly exposing her throat and giving in. Quinn was in charge, everything was back to square one.

Except Quinn had no idea what she was really doing. She hadn't been thinking clearly when she decided to pin Santana. Her only objective had been to win and now that Santana had given up her bravado fell short. What, exactly, did two women do to one another?

Her mask of confidence promptly fell apart and she stared at Santana blankly. Brittany made it worse by rubbing small circles on her back.

Santana noticed the look and blatantly laughed in Quinn's face before she roughly pulled Quinn down to the floor, her movements nowhere near as graceful as Quinn's but just as effective. She threw Brittany a glance and the blond girl quickly jumped in to kiss Quinn senseless while Santana got to work taking off the shorts and underwear, pausing only to admire the lacy G string.

Quinn made a noise of protest but it was quickly swallowed up by Brittany's mouth. She wasn't like Santana; her kisses were more languid and sensual, making it really difficult for Quinn to focus, which was the point.

But when she felt Santana spread her legs wider, her nails digging harshly into her thighs, and positioning herself between Quinn's legs. She couldn't help but stiffen, her own hold on Brittany tightening. She was scared. She had never done something like this before and wasn't accustomed to walking into a situation ignorant and unprepared. While she had never contemplated doing things to a girl and had fantasized about her perfect first time with a boy, she didn't want it to be Santana touching her there for the first time and have the whole thing be one angry attack.

Brittany paused and looked up at Santana reproachfully. The other girl raised an incredulous eyebrow and they had some quiet communication while Quinn struggled with herself on what she was doing. She didn't understand how Brittany seemed to have such influence over Santana; the blond girl never struck her as particularly strong.

It ended with Santana sighing, her grip loosened and she crawled up Quinn's body to lean in for a kiss, ignoring the defensive way Quinn jerked her head back and away. She held Quinn's chin and leaned in for another kiss, this time there was no anger, mainly curiosity. Quinn relaxed and started exploring Santana's mouth too; there was tension and struggle for dominance but none of the hate.

Santana acquiesced because she realised Quinn really was getting scared. She was no damn rapist. If she wanted to beat Quinn it had to be on territory where the girl excelled or it was no victory at all. Quinn started getting aroused again, even excited when Santana cupped her breast and kneaded it. She was still rough but Quinn felt safer. She moaned when the girl slipped her hand up her shirt and pinched a nipple.

For Quinn the entire thing was surreal. Santana started trailing her kisses along Quinn's neck and collarbone, moving further south while Brittany, satisfied by their truce, moved alongside them and returned to capture Quinn's lips.

She was absolutely coated by the time Santana finally made her way down to the flushed, aching heat between her legs.

Santana moaned at her first taste, barely able to catch Quinn's keening in the background. She hadn't expected Quinn to be this responsive and it was no small amount of arrogance that she fully credited herself with making the almighty Fabray soaked. She explored slowly, taking her time and trusting Brittany to keep Quinn in check.

The girl in question was certainly struggling to keep Quinn pinned down. Her kisses were getting aggressive; she clearly did not like being teased at the moment. But Brittany was ready; she lifted Quinn's shirt and held Quinn's arms tightly at her sides while she turned her attention to Quinn's breasts. Those lips and teeth drove Quinn wild but she couldn't move without hurting Brittany and _no one_ hurts Brittany. Quinn herself made sure of that daily. To harm Brittany was to face Quinn's personal retribution. It was one of the few things Santana grudgingly admired of Quinn though she would never admit it.

Brittany decided to take her time, leaving as many marks as she could on Quinn's virginal skin. It amazed her that no one got to touch the head cheerleader before. It was sort of humbling to know Quinn trusted her and even Santana with something she seemed to value so much. She didn't know if Quinn would ever let them do this again, so she wanted to make it memorable.

Quinn honestly believed she had died at some point during the night. The problem was deciding based on the torture, if she was in heaven or hell. Her hips rocked over Santana's face, the evil Latina still far too slow and gentle for her liking. She almost wished she could make the other girl mad again.

"_Fuck, _Santana!"

Santana's head jerked up in shock, Brittany too stopped abruptly.

"Stop teasing and finish me!" She snarled, her tone commanding.

The other two girls were so shocked to hear Quinn curse they hadn't moved.

"What are you both waiting for?!" Her hazel eyes blazed, locking onto Santana's dark ones, trying to ignore the way the girl's chin glistened.

And just like that everything clicked back into place. Santana obediently slid two fingers into Quinn, her mouth clamped firmly on Quinn's sensitive nub. Quinn cried out in half pain as her sex stretched to accommodate the welcomed intrusion. She gave a shaky moan as Santana started a rhythm.

"Oh... oh fuck... oh my... Oh G-" She still had the presence of mind not to call God's attention to this. And she refused to call Santana's name more than she already had.

Brittany felt herself grow damp again, amazed at how turned on she was to hear Quinn swear. The righteous, articulate Quinn Fabray reduced to incoherent cursing.

"Ohhhh fuck yes, that's it. That's.... that's oh.... shit"

Brittany whimpered, for a moment too fixated on Quinn's flushed face and the tensing muscles in her abdomen as she got closer to orgasm. She snapped out of it when Quinn's glassy eyes connected with her own. She practically pounced on Quinn's neck and chest, knowing she was running out of time to mark her territory.

Santana was also having difficulty focussing. She fumbled the rhythm ever so often but Quinn enjoyed herself too much to notice. The sounds and words coming out of the head cheerleader made her light headed. In the back of her mind she knew she had once again reverted to obedience but at that point she couldn't care less.

The heat was getting too intense and Quinn began to wonder if the torture would ever end and whether she wanted it to. Her cries grew louder and more erratic. She was writhing and she no longer knew who was doing what to her. All that mattered was that no one stopped. She was gripping someone's hair and someone else's shoulder. She could have sworn they had switched positions on her at some point.

Then everything reached its peak and Quinn was straining off the floor, every muscle taut and stretched. A hot fluid rushed out of her and coated her ass. Whoever was inside her kept moving - though slower - and she found herself convulsing sporadically as smaller waves of ecstasy struck her.

When it was over she could barely move. Her body had melted and her breathing was deep and lazy. Half asleep she could overhear Santana and Brittney frantically having sex at her feet, trying to take care of their own needs. Quinn frowned mildly, aware that she should do something, like lecture them or... something. She couldn't quite remember. Instead she sluggishly grabbed her shorts. She tried not to look at them in the process but it was inevitable. They were there adjacent to her feet, pressed tightly to one another, hands between each other's legs and pumping in a frenzy. They were also naked.

She woke up a little at that, watching in amazement at the heat between them. Then she forcibly shut her mouth, which embarrassed her since she didn't know it had happened. Irritated with herself and a little jealous that they could do such things without feeling guilty, she used Santana's discarded shirt to wipe some of the wetness off herself. Feeling smug and still a little drugged off the climax, she fumbled into her shorts and lay back down. When they both loudly climaxed but she felt a pull within her sex, but being sated it didn't have the effect it could have had.

She was angry again, jealous of what they had and the fact that she could never have it. In the morning, when the ecstasy became a memory and she had to face another day, she would feel guilty. Quinn Fabray had to be the ideal girl, to retain her power and please everyone, including God. She would pray for forgiveness and resolve to never indulge in this stupidity again, though a part of her wanted to just to show Santana up. Having sex with a girl is nothing, she was fairly confident that if she was heathen she would be quite capable of becoming an excellent lover, one to surpass even two women making love to someone.

Not that two women can make love, she added to herself. That thought made her sad for some reason. She had Finn and that would be enough.

Brittney showed up and lay down by her left side, Santana spooning the blond from behind. Quinn cleared her throat.

"Alright." She wished her voice didn't sound so husky; it really took away from the impact of her words. "So we're all in this together now. You're safe Santana." She noted the way the Latina went still and was glad she could pinpoint exactly why they had done this. Well, exactly why her friends did this, she still wasn't sure why she specifically decided to allow this but she didn't want to think about it.

"So, we're all in this together. Fine. Tomorrow everything goes back to normal." The air of control returned to her, she was back on familiar footing. "We will _never_ speak of this again. I don't even want to hear a _joke_ about this. This never happened. I will not be sleeping over here again..." she hesitated at the wounded noise Brittany made. "Well... if I ever do decide to do another sleepover, and I'm not saying I will..." She wondered just how Brittany had made it under her skin enough to make her compromise her demands. The girl was a tad unnerving.

"You will not be having sex while I am around. I don't care what you do – although you must be aware that this is highly immoral and wrong – so long as I am not around for it. This never happened."

At that she turned away from them, her mind clouded from the orgasm. Ignoring what had happened wasn't so difficult when one was drunk off sex. She fell asleep fairly quickly.

Almost a half hour later Santana leaned into Brittney and whispered.

"Is she asleep?" As if Brittney had some sixth sense about these things.

"Yeah."

"Good."

She started playing with Brittney's hair but the girl didn't respond.

"What's wrong?"

"What you said, before, did you mean it?"

"Umm you're going to have to be more specific Brit."

"You said what we do isn't real sex."

"Oh."

Santana stopped moving but she could make out the outline of Brittney fingering one of the blankets. They had been friends for a long time so she could tell Brittney was hurt.

"I... uhh...." she didn't know what to say. The last thing she wanted to do was define what they were doing but she couldn't just let it drop now that Brittney was hurt. "Y-you're the only girl I do this with. I mean, outside of Quinn just now." She blurted nervously.

"Uh huh."

"Umm well...." She tried to come up with something else. "I would... I would be upset.... if you told me we had to stop."

"Oh." But she could hear the smile in Brittney's voice and felt relieved.

"And you know I was only saying that cause of Quinn." Anger rose in her chest. That woman was always screwing things up for her.

"You're mad at her. And sulky."

"I am not sulky."

"Ok." Brittney waited, making Santana feel guilty for snapping.

"It's just... she's always... in charge. Why does she always have to be in charge?" She huffed.

"Well she needs to be in charge." Brittney whispered back. "You don't want to be like that. It's very sad."

Santana didn't see how sad it could be. Quinn had _everything_. And it upset her that Brittney would side with Quinn.

"No one will ever top Quinn Fabray." She sighed and turned away from Brittney.

Brittney wasn't sure that was true. She paid more attention to people than others gave her credit for. And she could see that at least one person threatened Quinn. She could see it in the way Quinn went out of her way to control the girl, keep her down and subdued. Never had anyone inspired such desperate, vicious cruelty in the head cheerleader. Literally, Brittney could not name anyone else Quinn went so far out of her way to abuse. And she knew why.

Rachel Berry was not controllable. She was a powerful beacon of ambition and positivity. Quinn was a cultivated persona, her strengths developed and nurtured, sensitive to the changing tide of social hierarchy. Rachel was a natural force to be reckoned with. Her bold personality made her an immovable but impenetrable target. Quinn couldn't break her and it was terrifying her. She didn't understand Rachel, one of the few who would not bow before her and the only one to actually thrive off Quinn's attempt.

Quinn, Brittney mused, was also probably unsettled by the fact that Rachel seemed to hold no ill will toward the cruel girl. She didn't obey any of the rules and that's all Quinn understood, obeying the rules. She had to be in control even if she didn't want to be and she could never fully trust someone to be in charge of her.

So Brittney cuddled up to her pouting Santana, happy to know that there were Rachel Berry's in the world who could – hopefully – one day teach the Quinn's of the world, the joys of submitting.


	2. Rectified Mistakes

A/N: There will be a sequel to this (its already been written, just needs to be editted. It will eventually become Quinn/Rachel/Santana/Brittany - foursome). Please read "Go with the Flow" if you want a good perspective on this story but its not necessary.

Some warnings: Some Dom/Sub play, minor violence (not sexual), cursing, dark content, tad angsty. Femslash.

Please review :)

Edit: Forgot to place a break between two parts of the story. Fixed now!

* * *

There used to be a time when Quinn felt certainty. The world and its functions made sense, a system of patterns and rules, the consequences and rewards. She had believed in this reality of processes and protocols, and thrived in it.

She had seen this structure in every facet of her life. In her home, in her school, among her peers and within her religion, everything functioned according to the same set of restrictions.

As she grew up she quickly learned that this system was built on lies. The foundation was an illusion and at the top of the hierarchy were those who knew how to keep up appearances the best. They were the leaders and managers, the popular and powerful. They were the ones who got to manipulate the illusion and put it to their use. These people were also the cruel, vicious bastards who could – in one fell swoop – destroy anyone and everything.

At the age of five, after witnessing a group of girls beat the emotional crap out of one awkward little boy, she decided she wanted to be one of those bastards. Never would she allow anyone to treat her like that and the only way to guarantee protection was to take absolute control of the system. She turned cold and callous.

At the height of her power, her parents were eating out of her hand, along with an entire high school and there was nothing she could not have. Father had laughed, told her she had a guardian angel blessing her every endeavour. And she felt it was true. There was even hope for her to leave Lima, to spread her influence and rise up the ranks. She had been looking forward to a challenge, a change of pace and to taste the new flavour of affluence.

Manipulation and control were two things she had been very good at. Everything was planned out, she would excel in school, gain notice for her cheerleading, grab a scholarship and go to university. In her own way, she loved Finn, but she was prepared to discard him if he couldn't follow her. Part of being in control was knowing when to be flexible. To adapt to change. She had watched many people fall simply because they failed to keep up with the ever moving current of life. It was normal; it was a constant test of faith.

As she leaned over the railing of the bridge to gaze upon the moonlit river surrounded by snow covered trees, she again reflected on the events of her life that had led to her failure. What had tipped the halo off her head. Over and over again she wished she had never gone to Puck's. She wished she hadn't had anything to drink. She wished her uterus was a barren wasteland. Her mind went over the possibilities, obsessively dancing around the things that could have been.

Why couldn't Puck have put on a condom? The sleazy shithead knew all about sex, had done it a hundred times, but no condom. Why couldn't she have had a miscarriage like most normal women did? Why did she have to be fertile? Why didn't she have the courage or frame of mind to abort? Why did she have to care about the damn thing? Why didn't she just work out to stop feeling fat?

After years of self discipline she had a moment of epic stupidity and everything was taken from her.

Quinn pressed herself more firmly against the railing, resting her chin in her crossed arms. The weather was colder than usual and she was not dressed appropriately for it, but her health was the least of her concerns. After giving up the baby for adoption she didn't have anything to guilt-trip her into caring. If anything, she welcomed the cruel icy bite of the wind, a taste of the kind of person she had become.

Quinn wondered if there was a possible way to destroy the system. To completely uproot it. Only a couple of months ago the idea would have horrified her. It had been good to her. Everything had been going smoothly. Then she screwed up and screwed Puck.

She drummed her fingers on the railing, watching the current and the white puffs of air that left her nose. Always watching, she had always paid attention to the current, trying keep her head above the water. Trying not to drown. Now that she stood there, stripped of all her privilege and bare, she contemplated just letting herself sink.

It would be agony, brutal torture... but only for a brief moment. Then blissful silence, no more reminiscing and she could stop mourning over the death of her future. Her musings were just that, flights of fancy not meant to be taken seriously.

_Yet._

She still had to decide what scared her more: living this life or hellfire. Lately she was coming to terms with the fact that she was basically guaranteed a place in hell regardless of what she did from that point on. She had fucked Puck, she didn't keep her baby, and she had no family and no friends. Now Santana had the run of the school, cock-strutting through the halls and barking orders at _her_. At Quinn-fucking-Fabray. And she was too absorbed in her self-loathing to care. Had allowed it happen because it was punishment for her sins. She had done.... something with Brittany and Santana that she never wanted to think about again.

Her gut clenched sickeningly and she had to shake her head to clear her mind of unbidden thoughts. It helped. She went back to reliving the past.

Puck. She had sex with Puck. All because she had felt fat. Now she had a few faint stretch lines on the small paunch of fat she hadn't even tried to get rid of even though she had almost a year to get rid of it. It was almost ironic. With her taut cheerleader's body she had felt disgusting. How did she solve the issue? Why, she got pregnant of course! What the hell had she been thinking? What on earth made her feel so fugly she went, of all places, to _Puck_'s for fun?

_Man hands. _

A bark of laughter escaped her throat, so pained and vile it disturbed her.

It was true. Rachel Berry, a constant source of aggravation in her life, had made her feel fat. It had taken her months of digging deep within her brain, agonizing over the little details that had led to her punishment, until she had found it.

She had been trying, for the millionth time, to put Berry in her place. And that nauseating brunette just bounced right back up. Again. It was always the same dance. No matter what Quinn did the brunette just seemed to grow a little stronger each time. It was unfathomable, how one small peppy girl could take so much abuse and just grow. She disobeyed all the rules. Berry was social leprosy, everyone attacked her from all sides and the woman smiled brighter for it.

Quinn had tried to call the agitating Chihuahua fat. Couldn't even remember what she had said and couldn't remember what Berry's response had been. Someone had slushied the diva and that should have been it. But it hadn't been. She felt like crap. Then she went to Puck.

Though she didn't blame Berry for it, not really, after all the girl never actually thought before she spoke. She did most of her damage to Quinn without even knowing it. Though Quinn got a taste of just how deeply the girl could stab someone in the back when she ratted the pregnant girl out. At first she had been relieved to have the secret out. No more burden... but then what was left of her shamble of a life imploded.

"Quinn."

Quinn's mind felt a little fuzzy. It occurred to her she had been standing out in the cold night for perhaps longer than she should have.

"Quinn?"

She frowned at the river, almost accusingly, because for a second there she could have sworn that Smurf had called her name. It had to be all the introspection, she had lost her mind. Had she jumped into the river without realising it?

A hand landed on her shoulder and she almost jumped out of her skin in an effort to jerk away from her assailant. Her whole body flushed with heat. To her astonishment the brunette was standing right there wearing a god-awful puffy neon pink winter jacket and Santa hat. Dark eyes watched with concern.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Quinn asked in a daze, her mind trying to wrap around the fact that this girl had just happened to show up when she was thinking about her. Like some telepathic demon come to terrorize Quinn on call.

"You know Quinn I could ask the same of you. At least I am wearing temperature appropriate attire so that my presence here is less out of place than yours. With the northern cold front we are experiencing harsher winter conditions and you are greatly risking the possibility of disrupting the homeostasis of your core temperature by standing here in that thin jean jacket. You could catch hypothermia."

Quinn relaxed as Rachel went on as she typically did, at length, about things she didn't care to hear about.

"Go away Berry."

"Where do you live."

It wasn't so much a question and it made Quinn pause. Under the street light she could make out Rachel's face. There was a determined look about her and it automatically made Quinn wary.

"I told you, at my cousin's." Actually she hadn't told Rachel directly, but word got around fast.

"You aren't living at your cousin's."

Quinn felt her stomach sink. She couldn't believe it. Rachel couldn't have... but then... this was Rachel.

"What are you talking about? I'm living at my cousin's. Did you finally pop a vessel in your brain after all that singing?" She tried to pretend she was exasperated and not panicking.

"You're thinner than you used to be."

"Giving birth will do that to some women." But she knew Rachel wouldn't drop it and all she had done by responding was make it imperative for the other girl to go on a list of all the symptoms she had observed.

"Your skin colour is off, you wear the same clothes to school over and over and you don't even wear the same number of clothes you used to. I counted five shirts, two jeans and only one pair of shoes. You don't have lunch anymore. Brittany and Santana tell me you haven't had a single sleepover at their house or yours. In fact, no one has ever visited you at your cousin's house. And... you kind of smell bad."

Quinn clenched her jaw and tried to keep from screaming at the other girl.

"Fuck off Berry."

Chocolate eyes widened in surprise at her language. Quinn stopped breathing as she watched Rachel do what Rachel did best. Take the blow, absorb it, and grow stronger. The strength in the diva's eyes made her tremble a little. Her defences had been weakened severely and Quinn panicked internally, fully aware that she was nowhere near prepared for Rachel Berry's attention. When that girl focused on something that was _it,_ there were few people on the planet who could shake her off.

"S-stop." She stammered, inwardly flinching at how frail she sounded. Her heart was in her throat. Suddenly the smurfette looked ten feet tall in her mind. Rachel seemed to sense something was off because she showed Quinn mercy and kept quiet.

"I have to go. I have curfew. I'm going to be late."

Quinn tried to walk past her but had Rachel grabbed her arm and was already leading her away.

"I can give you a ride! I brought my dad's car. The heater should help you feel better before we get there." Her tone was cheerful but Quinn knew the girl was more interested in finding out where she lived.

"I'm _fine_." She yanked her arm but Rachel's grip only tightened. "Let me go! I can make my way home by myself!"

"Quinn it would be safer and healthier for you to – "

"I don't care! I don't want to get in the car with you! If you don't let me go I'm fucking calling rape!"

"Quinn." Rachel's intense gaze connected with her tired hazel. "I'm going to be honest with you. If you don't get in the car with me, I am going to follow you. I brought my best boots and got well dressed in preparation for the possibility that I could end up in this situation. I am adequately prepared to spend the night out with you. So please get into the car. It would be more convenient for the both of us if you complied."

Frustration burned in her blood and she felt angered tears well up in her eyes at the realization that Rachel was completely serious.

"I'll call the cops on you."

"Alright." Rachel nodded calmly, reaching into her pocket for a fluffy black hat to put over her head. It too was oversized and looked warm. "You know the number."

They stood there, facing off, with Rachel calling her bluff.

_Shit._

"Fine. Where the hell is your car?" She had already started walking, her steps sharp against the pavement.

"We have to cross the street." Rachel was already beside her, a little bundle of energy, excited to ruin Quinn all over again. She felt a headache coming on.

When they got to the car Quinn already made up a plan. She gave Rachel an address while the girl started up the heater and moved the car out of park. They said nothing to one another as they traveled, Quinn resolutely staring out the window and ignoring the other girl.

After about fifteen minutes they came to a stop at a small house. Quinn turned to Rachel.

"Satisfied?" She smirked, opening the car door. What she hadn't anticipated was Rachel getting out of the car with her. "What are you doing?"

The look on Rachel's face made her feel sick. There was empathy, kindness and sadness.

"Just making sure you get home safely."

They stood by the car, Quinn staring at the house blankly. It was a full five minutes before anyone said anything.

"What do you want Berry?" Her voice was soft and tired.

"Where do you live Quinn?"

"Does it make you feel good to do this to me?"

"Just tell me where you live, Quinn."

She couldn't decide what she wanted to do more. To scream at the brunette or burst into frustrated tears.

"I live in a women's shelter, Rachel." She snarled, trying to mock the singer.

There was a slight pause before Rachel opened up the passenger's side of the car.

"Alright then. Get into the car."

Quinn raised a surprised eyebrow but Rachel was already making her way to the driver's seat. She hesitantly gave Rachel directions, though still in the opposite direction of the shelter she was living in. The last thing she wanted was the girl visiting her there. She would just take a bus back.

Rachel put the car in drive and Quinn lay back in her seat, grateful that the singer was quiet. Probably busy pitying her or feeling guilty for making Quinn expose herself, she mused.

Too late she had realised they weren't going to the address she had told Rachel to stop at. The car pulled into the driveway of a house.

Before Quinn could ask what was going on the brunette had turned the car off and was walking to the front door.

"Rachel?" she called, sticking her head out the door and finally stepping out when Rachel ignored her and entered the house, leaving the door open.

Quinn stood there for a moment, feeling stupid. She had no idea what was going on but knew Rachel wanted her to get into the house. Frowning, she entered the building, closing the door behind her, and let the heat seep into her bones. It felt comforting.

She followed the noise to a brightly coloured room where Rachel was busy rummaging through her drawers.

"The bathroom is to my right, you should probably shower... not to offend you but I'd prefer it if you didn't take the various odours you've accumulated at the shelter to my bed" She drew out a pair of shorts and shirt. "I'd offer bottoms but I'm shorter than you so it would probably make you uncomfortable and I think you'll already have trouble adjusting. We have a guest room dad turned into an office but I think I can convince them to change it back after I've told them your story."

Quinn gaped at Rachel uncomprehendingly. At first it had made no sense at all, then she briefly got the full picture and her mind melted.

"What?"

"Oh. You'll be staying here. I mean, I did act as the catalyst to your current situation and I feel it only ethical and reasonable that I aid you in your recovery."

"Fuck you."

Rachel canted her head, dark eyes still blazing with confidence.

"They'll be back around midnight so I should have time to stop by the shelter and grab your things for you. Then I think we might want to talk to my parents about getting you some new clothes-" Her words were cut off by Quinn abruptly turning and leaving the room.

The glacial weather quickly engulfed her like an old friend and Quinn found herself breathing easier the second she stepped out of that oven of a house. It was windier than when she had been at the bridge, much stronger. But she could still hear the footsteps behind her as she tried to make her way to the bus stop on the main street.

"Quinn."

She kept her head down, her crippled pride refusing to let her stop. Not Rachel Berry. Anyone but Rachel Berry.

"Quinn!"

But it was _always_ Rachel Berry. The girl would never go away. She would never ever go away. Quinn found it difficult to breathe, her heart racing in her throat and she didn't understand why.

"Leave me alone." She half whispered, sure that the wind took her voice away.

"Quinn it isn't safe for you."

"Leave me alone!" The panic turned to anger. This was an emotion she understood, a feeling she harvested and nourished. It was one small thread of power left to her.

"Quinn! Turn around _now_ and get back in the house!" Rachel's voice snapped through the air and whipped Quinn from within. She stopped and turned sharply, making the brunette nearly slam into her as she tried to keep up with Quinn's longer stride.

"Watch your mouth you midget bitch!" She slammed her hands against Rachel's shoulders and jerked the girl backwards, but Rachel caught her balance back quickly. All that damn dance training.

"You have to come back." Her words were calm, but Rachel's eyes were on fire. There was fanatic conviction in those eyes which were dark as onyx in the night.

"Don't piss me off Berry. I know where you live now." She sneered, trying not to waver in the heat of Rachel's doggedness.

"You have to...." the brunette paused, steeling herself even more. "If you don't come back right this instant Quinn, I will inform the school and they will inform social services –"

The fierce wind swallowed the dull thud of Quinn's fist slamming into Rachel's face. The brunette gaped in horror as she stumbled back, clutching her left eye as the former head cheerleader leapt for her.

Before Rachel could so much as make a run for it Quinn had pinned her to the ground, punching her wherever Rachel left herself unprotected.

"FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING BITCH! You worthless little freak! FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU!"

The words came out as a mantra. All the rage and resentment she had kept swallowed since the baby was born unleashed. She wasn't even attacking Rachel. In her mind she was trying to tear her parents to pieces for abandoning her. For showing her the true value of family. She was trying to beat the shit out of Puck for taking advantage. To destroy Finn for quickly dismissing her because of her mistakes. To wipe that smug little smirk of Santana's face. And to beat herself up properly, to punish herself for her weaknesses and for tossing her life away.

She wished she could break Rachel's nose since that was the one thing Rachel didn't want broken.

But she wasn't fit. Her body was hollowed out from depression, stress and neglect. All her effort had been put into that first punch and Rachel seemed to quickly realise this, deftly avoiding every blow until she flipped Quinn over onto the snow face down.

"Quinn-" she grunted as an elbow landed in her stomach.

"Let me go! Fuck you Rachel! I fucking hate you! I hate you so goddamn much! You-you fucked me up! You fucked me! You and everyone else! I hate you all!" She was furious and sick of everything. Her mind reeled with everything that she had been through, all she had lost.

"Fuck you! And fuck Puck! Fuck Finn!"

"It was a mistake!" Rachel tried to calm Quinn. "No one meant to leave you Quinn; you just pulled away from everyone at the wrong time!" She struggled to pin the blond girl's left arm behind her back and try to grab the other one that was flailing in an attempt to flip Rachel over.

"Mistake?! Fuck the mistakes! I make one _mistake_ one stupid fucking mistake and this is my punishment?!" Hot salty tears burned her eyes, the cold air shredding her throat as she took deep erratic gulps. "I did everything Berry! Oh God, I did everything." She sobbed. "I did eh-everything I was s-s-supposed to! Went to church, prayed.... wouldn't even l-l-let Finn touch me! One fucking mistake! I was head cheerleader, I w-was head of the celibacy club! I-I-I d-d-" it was getting harder to speak, she was choking, finally drowning in her despair and fury.

"Oh Quinn...." Rachel murmured softly, shifting her weight so she wasn't leaning entirely on the girl, but tried to hold her as best she could, spooning Quinn from behind.

"This is my punishment." A flare of anger surged once more and she reached within, digging as deeply as she could for her most raw hatred and shouted to the heavens from her place on the frozen earth.

"MY PUNISHMENT! _Fuck you God!_ People are out there doing whatever the fuck they want-" Her stomach clenched at the thought of Santana, fucking people left and right, not giving a damn about religion, standing at the top of the ladder and reaping the rewards of having simply _associated_ with Quinn all those years.

"I'm going to take you home-" Rachel's words faltered as Quinn let out a maddened shriek, suddenly convulsing in her attempt to throw the brunette off her.

"I would rather _die_ here than go to you for anything! I am tired, so fucking tired of needing help! I don't need help anymore. I don't need it from anyone, _especially_ you – you fucking troll! What is _wrong_ with you?" The panic was coming back. "Why are you so demented? I beat and beat at you and you keep coming back! I can't stop you! Nothing - can - stop - you!"

"You need to breathe! You're hyperventilating."

"Oh-my-god" she still couldn't breathe, even when Rachel got off her and pulled her into a sitting position. It wasn't until Rachel positioned her head between her knees and put a hand to her back that she started getting some of her breath back though she couldn't stop these rapid shallow gasps.

"Why- why are you do-doing this. You-you're fucking – in – indestruct –"

"Shhh" The hand rubbed circles on Quinn's back and only made her more disoriented.

"You – you can do anything. You're just- just fucking perfect –" Rachel's hand froze while Quinn's eyes glazed over from the lack of air and pumped adrenaline. "Like – I don't understand – I could never – and I tried – but you're just everything – everything – everything I can't be – and I give up – you win. I hate – hate you so much. I hate you – oh God – I hate you so much."

"We.... we need to get back into the house. You're freezing." Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn, surprised when the blond pressed her face to Rachel's collarbone.

"Ohhhhh God no...." Her voice came out in a desperate cry. "Please Rachel nooooo...." she sobbed. "I j-just wanna go home. Please don't make me go Rachel. Please. Please, Rachel, please..."

Her mind was a whirl of self hatred and pity so she didn't notice Rachel struggle for a moment before her resolve came back to her. Without a word, Quinn felt herself be picked up from the snow, her legs weak and wobbly. She no longer had any control. Quinn had broken down, renounced her faith and let her raw open wounds out into the open for Berry's intense gaze. Never had she felt more exposed and bare than that moment and she felt dead. All her willpower was gone and Rachel could do with her what she liked. Unsurprisingly, in a few short minutes she felt warmth seep into her flesh and it hurt. It hurt to feel heat after so much cold.

She could dazedly understand what was going on. Quinn took a slow shower in Rachel's bathroom, unable to recall how she'd gotten there and where Rachel had gone off to. A lot of time passed by and she came out of the washroom dressed in Rachel's shirt and shorts to see that what few possessions she had at the shelter were laid out on Rachel's bed. She stared at it until Rachel came in a couple of seconds later.

Rachel had a black eye and a bruised lip with a healing cut. They said nothing to one another as Rachel handed her a bowl full of soup.

"It's a bit cooler than it should be but you took a while in the shower. Tonight you will sleep here and I'll sleep on the couch."

Quinn nodded numbly and when Rachel left she put the untouched bowl on the table and crawled under the blankets of the bed, trying to not feel sick from all the boiling heat of the house. She forgot to turn off the light but she didn't care, falling asleep so soundly that she didn't overhear Rachel and her parents arguing a few hours later.

****

After Quinn found herself forced to live in the Berry household she managed to escalate her isolation. It wasn't too difficult. Rachel's fathers, although not pleased about the girl's intrusion into their lives, were particularly angry with her for harming their daughter. No one tried to speak to her and she didn't try to speak to them.

Within the first day they had acquired a bed and cleaned out the guestroom for her. She knew it wasn't out of the kindness of their hearts because she overheard Rachel plainly informing them that "in Quinn's current condition she needs a comforting private environment so I'll sleep on the couch until we can get her a room." Quinn felt sick to her stomach as one of Rachel's father's – whom she later came to know as Leroy – snapped at Rachel in frustration. Clearly he didn't want Quinn there.

But what Rachel wanted, Rachel got. And she wanted Quinn Fabray living in her house. After ensnaring the girl in question, her parents were a piece of cake.

Quinn got her own room. She avoided every other room in the house as much as possible, barely speaking to anyone and generally finding reasons to leave. When the Berry's ate, she hid in her room, only coming out when she thought no one would find her and grabbing a small snack. She was eating a bit more since her depression but she was still uncomfortable.

Her status at school changed after the Berry debacle. People seemed.... intimidated by her once more. No one threw slushies, Quinn was untouchable, only this time it wasn't popularity: it was the ice she surrounded herself with. In the past it had merely encircled her heart to protect her from her superficial relationships, her front an equally superficial veil of friendliness. Now that ice was at the forefront, a massive and impenetrable fortress.

Mercedes had approached her once, all full of fire and outrage, ready to tear Quinn to pieces because – although Rachel denied it – everyone knew she was the one who had hit Rachel. She had prepared a powerful diva moment but it faltered and died in a heaping mess from one look from those eyes that held restrained rage that cut into the singer so sharply she flinched. Instead of yelling at Quinn she awkwardly stumbled and walked away.

No one could or would touch Quinn. Except Rachel. Her very presence snuffed out the anger, leaving a very vulnerable and nervous young girl. So she avoided Rachel like the plague, and the brunette generally gave her space.

Back at the house, Leroy was losing patience with Quinn's cold shoulder. Rachel kept trying to subtly invite her into the family but Quinn ignored her efforts. She would not eat with them, would not play games on 'game night' and certainly wouldn't watch movies on 'movie night' or do any other activities designated to any other nights. She was like a ghost in their home, rarely seen but always felt.

Sometimes before bed, she would call her old home just to listen to her mom answer the phone. And sometimes, her mother would stay on the phone, silently, and she would just lie there connected to her mom for that night. But nothing was ever said.

One day Leroy knocked on her door.

"Oh. Yes?" She kept her eyes averted, not sure how to behave. There was a moment of silence.

"Here. Five hundred dollars. Go and buy yourself some clothes." His voice was soft but the tension between them remained the same.

Quinn could taste bile in her throat.

"No thank you. I don't need it."

"Yes you do. I expect you to use this money for clothes." His tone grew stern and Quinn flinched as he smacked the money on the dresser.

And so Quinn went out and bought clothes. She also applied for jobs and eventually landed herself a telemarketing job that paid more than minimum wage. When she got her first pay check she got back to the Berry household and stealthily waited for a moment alone with Leroy. She managed to catch him in the kitchen preparing sandwiches for the night's board game marathon.

"I got a job." She watched him jump up in surprise and she winced at her timing. The man could have cut himself. He glanced at her then turned back to his work. "I made one fifty this week." She placed the check on the counter so he could look at it.

"I can't pay much but I'll pay back the five hundred... then.... then we can make a rent plan for me." Her heart was thudding rapidly as he slowed his movements to a full stop.

"Ok," he turned to her, only his gaze was softer on her since the first time she had moved in. "Keep your paycheck. I don't care about it." He wiped his hands on a towel. "But from now on, you eat with us. And you go to game nights. Movie nights. All of them. You're going to be nice to my daughter. If you ever lift a hand against her, you'll be rooming in a prison cell. Do we understand each other?"

And so began the game nights. At first everything was horribly awkward and tense. Meals and evenings were heavy with silence and everyone was uncomfortable. Then comments were made, Quinn joined in here and there, blushing hotly at the way Rachel always seemed to brighten up at her progress.

The game nights were the worst and the best. It was terrible because at first Quinn couldn't fathom competing with them. All of the Berrys were way out of her league and they had to slow down for her which was embarrassing. It was also fantastic because it allowed Quinn to speak without feeling like she was opening up. Yet she did just that, playfully teasing Rachel for being too competitive, pretending to be offended when Leroy told her she was just being a slow blonde, trying to keep Hiram from cheating off her. Double teaming worked better because then Quinn's fumbles were carried by her team member. And since Rachel was usually the one to volunteer them as a pair, Quinn won by proxy.

The entire house relaxed and Quinn began to enjoy the warmth. It still stung that she had exposed herself to Rachel so much. She hadn't even realised what she had been feeling until she had attacked the brunette. But it was true, she envied Rachel for the strength she had. There was no doubt in her mind that if the roles were reversed Rachel would have found a way to come out on top. Pregnant teenager? No problem. Cheating whore? Matter of perception. She would have still gone on to New York with her baby and could be proud of herself. Even if her friends and family kicked her out on her ass, she would have found a way to land on her feet.

She was ashamed of herself and still unable to deal with her weaknesses. Whenever she spent time with Rachel it was with Rachel's fathers in the room. The idea of being alone in a room with the other girl made her feel queasy and she would often break out in a sweat at the thought. She was scared of her. Absolutely terrified. Yet at the same time, awkward feelings surfaced too.

Although the girl made her anxious, she also felt safer when Rachel was around. She wanted to touch the singer, be it a hug or just to brush up against her. And although Rachel seemed to stiffen when she did this, eventually Rachel allowed herself to touch Quinn back too. It was disconcerting to want to both avoid and connect with the brunette. She felt warmer whenever Rachel was present. And sometimes, to her horror, when she was feeling lonely and depressed in the guestroom, she had a powerful urge to sneak into Rachel's room and.... _cuddle_ of all things. At first the thought would make her shudder in disgust but one night she actually got up and stood outside Rachel's door for a full five minutes before she regained her sanity and hotfooted it back to the guest room.

So she kept their contact limited to game nights and movie nights with Rachel's fathers. She didn't think she would survive spending time alone with the girl. And she was in luck: the girl did not seek her out. Moments between the two of them were rare and almost completely silent. Everything was perfect and Quinn knew it wasn't going to last.

*****

"What? What do you mean you're going?" She hoped the panic in her voice was subtle, but judging by Leroy's concerned expression she had come on too strong. The two of them had gotten quite close after the money incident. Quinn felt like she was six again, watching her parents leave for the first time on what was going to become annual trips without her.

"We're only going to be gone for a weekend. There's plenty of food in the fridge and you guys have the car. Rent movies or something. You'll be fine."

Quinn felt a little ill at the thought of spending almost three days alone with Rachel.

"We'll leave a number on the fridge and the address where we're staying. Hiram's mom is turning sixty, we can't miss this party; his brother would never forgive us" he added, drolly.

"Well... it's Rachel's grandmother, shouldn't she go visit too?"

He seemed amused by her insistence that she not be left with Rachel alone.

"Rachel has exams she needs to study for. Relax a little. You've been living under the same roof for the past two months and you haven't tried to kill one another yet. I think you can last a weekend."

Quinn didn't think so. And later that night she felt a powerful urge to call her mother, though the urge lessened since the Berrys unofficially accepted her presence. So she picked up the phone to dial when she realised Rachel was already on it. Her first instinct was to turn it off when she picked up on Finn's voice.

"I don't get it Rachel; I thought things were going good between us...."

Quinn's jaw dropped in shock. Finn and Rachel were _dating_? Under her very nose? How the hell did they manage to do that? But then she realised she didn't spend all that much time in the house. By trying to avoid Rachel she gave the girl ample opportunity to date her ex boyfriend. Goddamn it, she grit her teeth in fury, too caught up in the sickening twist in her stomach to think about hanging up.

The anger was mainly directed at Finn, though she wasn't sure why because she should technically hate Rachel for stealing her man. Not that he had been her man for the past several months but something about this whole affair left a bitter taste in her mouth. The feelings she had for Rachel on the matter confused her. She could almost swear she felt hurt.

"Finn, you're a very nice boy and for the longest time I thought we were an appropriate match, mainly because I had spent a lot of time becoming enamoured with a variety of similar cliché romantic pairings in the media. However, in retrospect and after a sufficient time together I have decided that while I enjoy your company we are not a suitable couple."

Relief flooded her brain and Quinn relaxed against her bed frame.

"..... right." He sounded confused.

"I'm sorry."

"This is because of Quinn isn't it?"

Her heart stopped beating at the long pause.

"Rachel.... I'm sure she's fine. I can't deal with her after what happened. I'm sure her cousin is taking care of her. She even looks healthier."

Frowning to herself, she realised that Rachel had kept it all a secret. No one knew she was living at the Berry house. For once in her life Rachel was holding her tongue. To protect Quinn. Tears welled up in her eyes and she had to swallow hard to gather her bearings.

"_Finn_," the venom was thick in her voice. "Quinn is not something to be _dealt_ with. She is a human being! How do you go from loving her and wanting to take care of her baby; actually wanting to keep it with her – to just dismissing her completely out of your life?!"

She was shocked that Finn and Rachel had been talking about the pregnancy and even more stunned when she caught the heavy emotion in Rachel's tone.

"She cheated on me! Tried to use me!"

"She made a mistake! And she was scared! In this sexist society it is always assumed that the female take all responsibility for a pregnancy-"

"I was willing to help her!"

"That doesn't matter! _You_ get to choose how much responsibility you want to take! Either a pittance of your salary to child support or you just leave the damn country! No one expected you or Puck to actually do the most difficult aspects of childcare. To raise it! She had that hanging over her head at the age of sixteen. You couldn't even talk to her? Ask her how-"

"Forget it Rachel! This is ridiculous. I'm not defending myself to you!"

She winced at the scrabbling noise as Finn struggled to turn off the phone in his frustration. Then the line went dead. She listened to Rachel sigh tiredly.

"It's rude to eavesdrop." The line went completely dead.

Quinn's jaw moved soundlessly for a second before she turned the phone off and buried her face in a pillow.

****

"You're running away? Again?" Rachel's voice sounded sad and it made Quinn feel like shit.

"I just... wanted to go for a walk."

"They haven't been gone half an hour and you're already trying to get away from me." When Quinn didn't respond Rachel shrugged, still looking wounded. "Alright. Why would I expect anything else from you."

Quinn let out a frustrated groan as the diva slammed the door shut to her bedroom. Feeling every bit like an ass she grabbed the car keys and went for the car.

She ran things over in her mind, trying to figure out what to do. Something about Rachel made her feel strange and nervous and she was beginning to suspect its origins. There were a few things she already figured out about their relationship. Never again would she be capable of actively harming the girl. She couldn't bear the thought of others harming Rachel either. What confused and upset her the most was that Rachel was her protector when she felt she should have been the one doing the protecting. She used to have all the power and now she had none to save Rachel with. And when she did have that power she had only used it try and destroy the brunette.

The guilt ate away at her. Rachel was keeping Quinn's secrets and gave her a home to live in. Hell, Rachel was even protecting Quinn from her own rather blunt personality, allowing Quinn to keep the conversations and interaction to a minimum. Now she was hurting the brunette's feelings because she couldn't handle her own emotions. When she returned to the house in the evening it was with a DVD, junk food, and a 2 litre bottle of Rachel's favourite Diet Coke with lime.

"You're... home?" Rachel raised an eyebrow at Quinn from her textbook on the living room couch. Both of her eyebrows raised even higher when she noted Quinn's loot.

"I rented Paranormal Activity. I figure we can.... also order a pizza."

"I have an exam on Tuesday."

"So?" She tried to cover the disappointment she felt that Rachel would just wave her off like that. "It's Friday. You can spare one night...." She looked away, feeling embarrassed. This was not Quinn – the social genius – talking. Rachel made her so awkward.

"Ok."

"Ok?"

"Yes."

She managed an almost pained smile at the brunette, still agonizing over her ridiculousness. This seemed to amuse the other girl and Quinn couldn't help but grin more genuinely.

"Well good... this should... this should be good."

*****

"Oh for the love of God..."

"I demand a refund! Give me the phone."

"Rachel, just eat around the anchovies!"

"No! The juices have comingled with the rest of the toppings! I will not have my palate exposed to that repulsive concoction! And we tipped him!" Rachel paused, her eyes narrowing at Quinn accusingly. "Wait – _you _tipped him! You gave him a tip when he was almost an hour late!"

"Rachel it was twenty minutes-"

"Forty five!"

Quinn sneered at the brunette in annoyance. There was an impending headache arriving and it gathered speed as Rachel delved into her Diva Disaster moment.

It was supposed to be simple. Lay out the junk food, start the movie, wait for the pizza, and relax. She had even planned to allow herself room for chitchat with the irritating girl. But Rachel was incapable of letting go and to Quinn's surprise she gave in easily to the brunette's orders. She was allotted only half a bag of chips so – as Rachel put it – she had an appetite for pizza. Then she had to change into pyjamas because Rachel gave her these absolutely evil mind controlling puppy eyes, implying that she'd never had a proper sleep over before. They brought a blanket to the roomy couch and Quinn tried not to stare. Clearly, Rachel's taste in clothes did not translate to her bedroom. The tank top and boxers on that tanned body made her feel decidedly lightheaded. Quinn wore a more conservative t-shirt and shorts.

They had a small argument over what to put on the pizza. Quinn hated pineapple on her pizza; Rachel salivated at the thought and refused to do a pizza half and half because it saved money to settle for toppings they both agreed on. And no, they would _not_ be using Quinn's hard earned money. In the end Quinn gave up because whatever she threw at Rachel the woman would simply go off on a long monologue on the various things incorrect with her logic. Rachel had patience for everything.

Everything but the delivery boy. She had to physically tackle Rachel to get her to keep from assaulting him for being twenty – and ONLY twenty minutes late. The guy must have thought Quinn insane by the way she threw the money in his face, grabbed the carton and told him to run for it.

Now the diva was demanding retribution because they added anchovies.

"Take off the toppings."

"Give me the phone."

"Take. Off. The. Toppings!"

"Give. Me. The. Phone."

They stared at one another, squaring off. Quinn had an irrational urge to toss the pizza at the girl but it reminded her all too much of the Slushie attacks. Rachel quirked an eyebrow and her eyes lost focus for a moment. Quinn realised the girl was plotting something and she was quickly running out of time. So she sat down on the couch with the phone under her butt and grabbed a slice, quickly removing the offending anchovies.

"Quinn!"

"Try it."

"I will not try it."

Quinn bit into it, trying not to wince at the heat. She closed her eyes and moaned deeply, as if it was the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted. When she opened them Rachel was blushing and looking flustered.

"It's excellent. Try it." She offered it to Rachel, noting the conflicted and slightly glazed look on the girl's face. Her own expression fell when she considered the fact that maybe Rachel just didn't want to swap spit with her. It hurt her feelings and she felt stupid for it.

But Rachel grabbed it from her, eyeing it like it was some deadly object, before taking a tentative bite. She chewed slowly, eyes locked on the carton suspiciously, and Quinn couldn't help but laugh when she realised the brunette was being playful.

"Well?"

"It's not inedible." Rachel grudgingly replied.

To Quinn's surprise the night improved after that. They ate and watched the movie. Though Quinn was almost mortified when she realised they had been inching closer together as the movie got scarier. When Rachel's leg brushed against her own she went rigid, flashes of Brittany and Santana running through her mind. Inwardly groaning she tried to ignore the brunette and her thoughts, only to jump a little when Rachel starting clinging to her and whimpering.

There was an agonizing ache between her legs and she immediately regretted the entire evening. She tried to squirm away from Rachel's grip but the smaller girl shrieked at something on the screen and practically jumped into Quinn's lap and forced the blond to lean back on the armrest. Her arms wrapped around Quinn's neck as she half lay on top of her.

Rachel's dark hair was in her face. She could smell the citrus shampoo, inhaling the scent that mingled with the diva's skin. Quinn felt oddly heavy and very warm. She blamed it on Rachel's body heat. It was difficult to breathe because every time she took in air she would get hit with a dizzying blast of Rachel Berry.

Rachel was on top of her. So warm and soft against her. Quinn could almost feel Rachel seeping into her. That irresistible, boundless perseverance wrapped around her. Berry was a force of nature. There was no doubt in Quinn's mind that if Rachel hadn't been so fixated on her Broadway career Quinn would have found herself usurped from her position in life so quickly and easily she would have been fighting to leech off the girl's popularity. She would have been Rachel's Santana, second best and hungry for the Diva's leftovers.

Quinn bit her lip at the thought, too deep in her thoughts of Rachel ordering her around, demanding her immediate attention and punishing her for her inadequacies – to notice they had shifted on the couch and Rachel was completely on top of her.

She used to do that to Santana. Failure was not permitted. The Latina hated it when Quinn exerted control, but Quinn felt she wouldn't mind so much if Rachel did that to her. She felt herself grow wet and ashamed. What the hell did it mean, to want someone to control you?

Rachel shifted her weight to wrap the blanket around them and even though every move was innocent Quinn's heart rate jumped. The brunette stilled; her cheek by Quinn's collarbone and her forehead to Quinn's neck.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine" she answered, trying to ignore the shakiness in her voice.

Rachel shifted so she could look at Quinn directly.

"You sound... odd."

Quinn had gone silent, muted by those warm expressive eyes. Rachel's silky thick hair trailed down her shoulders and tickled Quinn's collarbone and jaw. Everything seemed to slow down and her body felt heavy. In that moment she wanted nothing more in the world than to run her fingers through that hair. Her mouth had gone dry as she realised what was about to happen. She was about to do something she would probably regret for the rest of her life.

She buried her fingers into Rachel's hair and pulled her down for a kiss. It was gentle, barely a peck, and Rachel didn't move. If she had been coherent, Quinn would have thought Rachel's lack of response was rejection. But Rachel's scent, warmth and weight on top of her made her giddy and disoriented. So she explored those lips further with her teeth and tongue, deepening the kiss and flicking her tongue along Rachel's plump bottom lip for entrance. When the girl whimpered, Quinn felt it all go to her head.

She squirmed under Rachel, intending to flip their positions so she was on top. Taking charge was all she ever knew. But what should have been simple became complicated.

Quinn hissed in surprise when Rachel bit her bottom lip hard. She tried to pull away and was stunned when Rachel pinned her to the couch firmly, her hands darting out to tug Quinn's hands out of her hair and hold them down at her sides.

Her grunt of protest went unnoticed or was completely ignored because soon Rachel's tongue delved past her lips and demanded full access. Quinn's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she tried to arch off the couch but Rachel held her down fast.

The kiss was hungry and intense, robbing the blond of her breath. There was whimpering and whining and she quickly realised it was all her own. Rachel _growled_ as she ground her hips into Quinn's. All the energy and all the indomitable will that was Rachel focused on Quinn. She thought she would explode from sensory overload.

With her arms free she unconsciously reached out and groped the brunette, hands caressing shoulders, breasts and stomach. She wanted to touch everything that she couldn't touch before.

Her lips hurt and her tongue strained against Rachel's assault but she fought to claim the diva's mouth. It was impossible. Rachel was too much. The woman was driving Quinn insane, so heady with her unspoken challenges. The brunette's nails dug into her hips.

Rachel nudged Quinn's legs open and settled herself between them. The slow, rhythmic grinding made her mewl. Then her mind latched onto one horrifying fact: she was wet and teeming. Her juices had literally pooled onto her boxers and Rachel gasped when – in the next jerk of her hips – Quinn's wetness spilled over and surprised them both. It had gone through her shorts and Rachel could feel the warmth on her thigh.

Mortified by her body, Quinn violently lurched in an attempt to get off the couch, only to find herself trapped by a quick thinking and fast acting Rachel Berry.

She was flat on her stomach and confused.

"Get off me Rachel!"

The girl didn't respond, unceremoniously jerking Quinn's boxers down to her knees. Quinn's body flushed when she heard Rachel's sharp inhalation. No, she _wasn't_ wearing anything under the boxers.

Quinn tried to get herself up off the couch when Rachel pushed her back.

"Stay down" the singer's voice was hoarse and tense.

"Fuck you" she meant for it to sound angry but it came out like a moan.

A whimper left her throat when the brunette's fingers dug into her shoulders as punishment.

"What the hell are you doing Berry?" Something told her that calling Rachel any of her old nicknames would not be beneficial to her at that point but she was still defiant.

A part of her knew she could easily escape all of this. Rachel would have given up the minute Quinn showed she was serious. But Quinn didn't want it to stop and as much as she hated to admit it, she knew she had wanted this for a while. An internal battle raged within her: the desire to finally put that fucking bitch in her place and the need to have someone finally put Quinn in _her_ place. Someone to acknowledge that the blond was a human who had weaknesses. Someone who could be trusted to see that part of her. Someone like Rachel, the only person she had ever known to be stronger than herself and the only person to have ever withstood the full force of Quinn's cruelty and yet show compassion.

She would never understand Rachel. And she wasn't sure she wanted to. She got the sense that knowing Rachel would break her heart.

"Hey!" Quinn jumped a little when Rachel got up and yanked the shorts off her. The blond didn't even bother getting up, even though the singer had let go of her back in order to improve her reach.

In spite of everything, she was not prepared for Rachel to start nudging her ass up so she was on her knees with her face pressed up against the pillow.

"Oh.... God...." she groaned as the brunette traced her opening with the tips of her fingers

She turned around, unsure of what she had been hoping to accomplish by looking at the singer. Rachel was staring at Quinn's sex with feral intensity. A wolf coveting a delicious meal. The sight alone was enough to make Quinn forget what was happening. When those blazing mocha eyes connected with her own, the blond's breath hitched.

Rachel grinned though it was more of a baring of teeth. Goosebumps rose along her skin until Rachel leaned over and rested a hand between Quinn's shoulder blades, effectively restraining her.

She hadn't had sex since Puck and her body had recovered marvellously since the birth. Youth made the human body very versatile. Quinn squirmed as Rachel pressed three fingers against her opening. She was so slick that as Rachel slowly slipped her fingers past the knuckle Quinn had to bite the couch pillow to keep from crying out too loud from the painful pleasure. Her hips moved of their own accord.

The position was awkward. Later her neck would hurt. But at that point in time all she could focus on was Rachel's hand. Her eyes squeezed tight as she forgot about everything: who she was supposed to be, who she actually was, and all the rules that accompanied that knowledge. The movements were unhurried and tortuous. When she tried to speed up, Rachel would pull out and punish her by gently exploring her folds. The woman was sadistic in ways Quinn was not capable of being. She was a child of instant gratification.

Quinn learned Rachel's rule. It was one rule alone: follow Rachel's lead. Tears ran down her cheeks as she suffered being so close yet so damn far away. When her body started to heat up and climax seemed inevitable, Rachel would change tactics, ruin the pace or go back to explore.

And all Quinn could do was wait and pray that she could trust Rachel to finally finish her off. She begged and pleaded, nearly sobbing with promises and apologies for everything she had done. Rachel wouldn't shut her up. Wouldn't comment on anything. Didn't change her pattern.

She was nearly hysterical, wanting so much to push herself down on Rachel's hand but knowing that the brunette would merely _leave_ if she did such a thing, she stayed put with her ass high in the air.

Tears ran down her cheeks. She was going to die. There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to die. Rachel was going to kill her with her touch alone.

Unintelligible words spilled from her lips, mingled with confessions of past sins. Apologies for selling her soul to be popular and safe. Appeals for understanding of her weaknesses. She didn't know what she was really saying and she forgot she was saying it to Rachel. The precarious balance between pleasure and pain, the edge of orgasm, the smell of Berry in the air and the taste of salt on her tongue, she was going to die and she was going to love it.

She couldn't see Rachel, couldn't see the wonder and awe on her face. Rachel's tears went unnoticed. But Quinn became _very_ aware of the increase in speed.

"Oh! Oh, oh, oh, ahh...." Words disappeared and Quinn stuffed the pillow into her mouth to muffle her screams. Her body shook violently and her face turned red as powerful orgasms racked her thin frame. It was loud and messy and when it was over the entire world went black. Quinn had died.

Only she didn't. Someone was prodding her awake. It couldn't have been more than a minute of sleep, but some asshole was waking her up from what had been a fantastic and weird sex dream.

She opened a bleary eye to find she was still on the couch, Rachel sitting by her feet with a glass of water.

"Drink this."

Quinn stared at her in disbelief.

"You've been unconscious for three hours. Drink some water."

Rachel was behaving oddly. Her words were straightforward and plain, no long rambling monologues. It was almost as disconcerting as knowing Rachel had fucked her senseless only five hours ago until she blacked out.

Quinn couldn't bring herself to say anything coherent so she grabbed the glass of water, watching the brunette carefully. Her eyes were so dark they were onyx. She had never seen Rachel's eyes that colour before. It was unnerving. She sipped water from the glass and continued staring.

When she finished with her drink, Rachel got up to grab it from her hand and place the glass on the coffee table. She stood before Quinn

"I am.... fully aware of the ramifications of our activities tonight. I know we need to talk about this when we are clear headed and alert."

Quinn raised an eyebrow at the brunette, eyes darting all over. She felt embarrassed but intrigued.

"And we will be doing that. But first, we aren't finished. I have waited three hours and while I do like to think I have the capacity to be a considerate and compassionate lover, I am due reciprocation. You'll have to forgive me this one time – since it is our first coupling – because I simply cannot wait any longer."

She didn't even know how to respond to that. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened but nothing came out. Rachel seemed to take that for consent.

"Scoot down so you're flat on your back." She grabbed a pillow and tossed it to the blonde, to put under her head.

The obedience came more easily now. Quinn shifted so she was flat on the couch and staring up at Rachel, who swiftly took her boxer shorts and panties off. The blond's mouth watered at the sight of the diva's neatly trimmed curls.

There was no need for more words. With one foot firmly planted on the floor Rachel put her knee on the other side of Quinn's head. The blond only had a brief moment to nuzzle and explore the still surprisingly warm and wet pussy. Quinn swallowed hard and the instant her tongue touched sensitive flesh, she found her mouth full with Rachel's heat.

Rachel had been waiting a long time. She gripped the armrest hard enough to turn her fingers white. There was no mercy; she rode Quinn's face hard and fast. Waiting had been masochistic of her but watching Quinn's peaceful face as she slept – after first checking her vital signs, Rachel almost panicked when the blond suddenly collapsed on the couch – she couldn't bring herself to awaken her. But thoughts of what they had done wouldn't leave her head and soon enough she had lost all pretence of being giving. Lust won out.

Quinn's nails were digging into Rachel's ass, drinking the brunette in like her life depended on it. The singer was _loud_ and Quinn did her best to make her louder. She wanted to drown in Rachel, to take everything the woman gave her and give that woman everything she had.

The dark haired singer came with a desperate cry and hand to jerk herself up from Quinn, her mouth far too intense and enthusiastic on her sensitive flesh.

Her legs too weak to hold her, Rachel fell to the floor between the coffee table and the couch. Still panting and flushed, she looked at the blond who was licking her glistening lips and looking back at Rachel with a glazed, possessive look that made Rachel shiver.

"Fuck...." she whispered, more to herself than Quinn.

"Yeah...." Quinn shifted on the couch to make room for the brunette, lifting the blanket for her.

Rachel laughed a little, amused by the fact that they were both only clad in this t-shirts. Quinn gave her a small, uncertain smile that made her look so vulnerable the diva stopped short. She cuddled up to Quinn in silence, bringing the blanket tight across them. The blonde lost her nerve, facing Rachel in such close proximity, so she quickly shifted onto her back.

They stayed there like that for a while, Rachel staring at the side of Quinn's face while the blonde's gaze stayed fixed to the ceiling. Sighing to herself, Rachel shifted so she was half on top of Quinn, her head tucked under the taller girl's jaw.

The low light of the room and the sex should have put them both to sleep. While Rachel was certainly getting drowsy, Quinn's mind was racing.

"You know... I couldn't even look at her." Her voice was barely a whisper, but Rachel stiffened slightly against her, fully alert.

"Her?"

"The baby." Quinn could taste bile in her throat.

As if sensing this might be the one and only time Quinn would ever bring this up, Rachel kept her mouth mercifully shut.

"I couldn't even look at her. Didn't want to hold her. Made the doctors.... take her away."

"Oh."

"Yeah..." Her eyes burned and itched. She didn't want to talk about this. Not now, not ever, but she couldn't stop the words from flowing out.

"I - I failed Rachel. I failed everything. My parents... tossed me away. Like I was nothing. I lost control of the school... Lost my self-respect." She hadn't even been aware that she had created this list in her head a long time ago. Idly adding to it as time went by.

"Lost my virginity.... lost my body... lost... my chance to get out of here....I lost a nice guy I didn't even want that much." She laughed at the way Rachel froze at that, though it came out as a sob.

"Finn is great. A great guy. But nothing... nothing made me want him." She couldn't believe she was saying this. "No one ever made me... fixate on them. Except you though..." The tone in her voice was almost joking. "Isn't that hilarious? You're the only person I've ever hunted. The only one I ever sought. God I couldn't even stop myself if I tried. I really wanted to hurt you." She sighed, hot tears trailing down her face.

"I'm one sick fucking bitch."

Without her permission, one of her hands had started playing with Rachel's hair.

"But you know... you know what absolutely disgusts me? I didn't lose a damn thing." She laughed this time, an angry bark of laughter. "I didn't have any of those things. They were all lies. My body belonged to God; my parents didn't give a fuck about me, only cared whether I fit their imaginary perfect life. I never controlled the fucking school. It controlled me. Told me what to wear, what to eat, what to say, who to talk to... Control is an illusion..."

She pressed her lips to Rachel's hair, taking a deep breath.

"You know..." she whispered softly, as if this were a most important secret. "I never had self respect Rachel. Never. I always did what others expected of me. We all do. Well... except for you. You're different Rachel. You've always been different. Drove me crazy the way you just... spit in our faces, called us out on our bullshit."

Rachel had shifted and when Quinn turned she gazed into wide, surprised brown eyes. Quinn smiled at her.

"Nothing can stop you. Not me, not the entire school, and not the system." She noted the confusion on Rachel's face but decided to ignore it. She'd explain that later.

"After everything that's happened to you... you didn't get all emo, bitchy or discouraged. You're _amazing_ Rachel." She could have sworn that even in the low light, Rachel had gone red. "I don't understand you at all. But I know you're the strongest person I've ever met. You wouldn't have failed. Even if you got pregnant, you would have kept the baby, gone to Broadway, made millions and gotten married. You would have forgotten Lima. You would have told everyone to fuck off. You would –"

"Quinn!"

The blonde choked on whatever it was she was going to say. Her rambling rant stopped abruptly. She looked at Rachel, looking very small and fragile.

"Not that I'm not..." Rachel appeared to struggle with her words and Quinn was a little proud of herself for that. "I mean... I've never had anyone... give me so many compliments... especially of that nature." A light of confidence returned to those dark eyes. "Of course I've always known people would compliment me on my voice, my presence on the stage, my ability to..." she trailed off at Quinn's knowing little smile.

"Well, what I meant to say is... I have no idea how I would have handled your situation Quinn."

The blonde said nothing, turning to the ceiling once more.

"Quinn... what happened to you was scary. Really scary. I felt like – like – like _shit_ after I told Finn and saw everything fall apart. I was selfish and stupid."

Rachel paused to grasp Quinn's clenching jaw and turn those hazel eyes to her.

"I have no idea how I would have reacted. When I thought about it later... and I couldn't stop thinking about it... how terrifying it must have been to have the pregnancy and the lies all on my head.... Quinn you're one of the bravest and strongest person I've known."

The sob that escaped Quinn's lips hurt. Like the sound actually tore into the soft flesh of her throat. But Rachel wouldn't stop talking.

"You've walked so many paths. I've only ever walked one. You've survived every decision and you've been asked to make some extremely difficult choices. I mean... you were sixteen and pregnant. But you refused to abort. _And_ it takes a special kind of strength to admit your limitations and give the baby up to someone else. You took every punch thrown your way. When Finn broke up with you, your friends left you, you were stripped of your title, your parents.... well(,) everything broke down. And you _still_ survived. My God Quinn you went to school during the day and stayed at a woman's shelter at night! Even after everything you pushed forward! Quinn...."

At that point Quinn couldn't hear a damn thing. She was crying. Hard. Nearly retching from it.

The woman she had been torturing for years, the one she had been secretly loathing for being everything she wasn't, put _her _on a pedestal. Told her she was worth something, that what she had done meant something. It was ok to not be able to take care of the baby. She wasn't a Lima loser; she was a human being who did her best and someone actually thought she had done something _right_. When everyone else was punishing her and taunting her for her mistakes.

"You're amazing Fabray, _you're_ fucking amazing."

She would have laughed – who could say they had made Rachel Berry cuss twice in five minutes – but she was busy shaking. It was as if Rachel were cleansing her, taking all the poison out of her. She was far from fixed but for the first time in a long time she began to look at things a bit differently.

"You'll need some counselling sessions... not with Ms. Pillsbury but someone else. I'll talk to father about it. Not that I'm calling Ms. Pillsbury's credentials into question but..."

Quinn began to quiet down, feeling tired but a bit lighter. Rachel's soft, commanding voice filled her ears, talking of schedules. Quietly, she turned so she was snuggling on top of the brunette, making small noises of consent. In the morning she would put up a fight. Counselling sounded mortifying. But deep down she knew she would do whatever those molten brown eyes demanded of her.

****

Santana was beyond pissed. Brittany sat next to her pouting. They were alone at their table in the cafeteria. Everyone was ignoring them. Technically, they were ignoring Santana, if Brittany went over to join anyone or bothered to leave her place by the Latina, she would have been welcomed with open arms. Santana – on the other hand – was being punished.

It happened so quickly Santana wasn't sure what the hell had happened. One day she was Queen of the school and walking all over Quinn, with Brittany at her arm like a princess. Then the next day she found herself at the bottom. Even the Glee kids were higher on the pecking order than she was and she was a Cheerio. Multiple Slushie attacks within an _hour._ Brittany was her one veto card. No one would Slushie in Brittany's direction so Santana found herself – to her horror – glued to Brittany for protection.

And it was because Quinn usurped her and demanded retribution.

It had started out mildly enough. The blonde started looking healthier, talked more, and hung out with Rachel Berry. She was still fairly quiet and kept to herself. But people were still scared of Quinn because there was a sharper edge to her, a hardened quality to her that they instinctively shied away from. They avoided harassing the brunette in front of her.

Then Santana got cocky.

It wasn't personal. Rachel was tolerable in small doses. But the fear surrounding Quinn infuriated her. Santana had done her best to beat down the girl's reputation, to destroy what little Quinn hadn't managed to mutilate herself. Yet even at the bottom, people were scared of her. It wasn't right. It was pathetic. So she organized the hockey team to attack Rachel with ten Slushies when Quinn was there to witness it.

Santana stood there and watched it herself, ignoring the sad look in Brittany's eyes, as Rachel minded her business at her locker, Quinn at her side. There had been no warning. Next thing the diva knew, she was covered almost head to toe with a variety of colours. Her body went rigid at the icy slop of fluid. But Santana paid her no mind, focusing on Quinn's shocked expression, Slushie shrapnel flecking her face.

When their eyes met Santana smirked – but only for three seconds. Then those disbelieving hazel eyes lit up with understanding and Santana stood paralyzed as that gaze turned Arctic. It was as if she had been frozen in her place by those cold, rage filled eyes. She had overstepped a boundary. And Santana was normally ok with that. So she ignored the crawling of her skin that warned her she had screwed herself over. She forced a smug smile and walked away, Brittany following shortly after.

She figured the Rachel Slushie shower had been the straw that broke the camel's back and had anticipated many things: mainly physical retaliation. What she had not expected was Quinn to blaze a trail of fury up the social echelons. If it didn't mean she was about to be in some serious shit, Santana would have been in awe.

Quinn walked the hallways like she owned them and people began behaving accordingly. She talked of her pregnancy drama openly, laughing about it, making it a joke. And people laughed _with_ her. The blonde drew powerful allies; old charms came back tenfold, working on old friends. People remembered Quinn. Puck came to her side immediately, Finn followed a little more reluctantly – though Santana suspected that was more Rachel's doing than Quinn's.

Sue Sylvester herself had started pressuring Quinn to come back – though reluctant to admit that the Cheerios were struggling without her. Quinn refused and people thought her better for it. Santana's footing faltered on top of the hierarchy, a position that had only been won after Quinn stepped down.

And almost overnight, Quinn was back as Queen.

A few simple rules were implemented upon her comeback. The first rule was: Rachel Berry is second to Quinn. People were not allowed in any way shape or form to cause the girl to suffer. The reason was simply because Rachel had supported her through all her drama. Santana was actually shocked at how everything had effectively changed. No-one Slushied Rachel. They even offered to help her if she happened to drop something or couldn't carry something in hopes of currying favour with Quinn.

The other rule was that Brittany was – in Quinn's eyes – a sweetheart and would be allowed to make friends with Santana. Brittany would remain where she was in the hierarchy. She was the only one allowed such a reprieve.

The final rule was: make Santana miserable. So she got Slushied on a regular, almost hourly basis. Things went missing from her locker, people ignored her, and to her shock, people were snagging her Cheerio outfit, covering it in dirt and shit. Brittany had to keep offering the use of her uniform which was too long for her.

Quinn had been very efficient. On her way to the top one of her main sticking points was insulting Santana. And she was vicious. Cruel comments about how slutty the Latina was. How abrasive and violent. There was an undertone of racism and classism in every word. Santana knew Quinn wasn't actually racist or classist. She had listened to the girl's frustrated rants over her parent's bullshit. But she was a manipulative bitch and knew how to push people's buttons. Soon Santana was overhearing people talk about her. Whispering twisted things that she knew came from Quinn's honeyed words.

"_You'd think she was raised in the wilderness. I mean honestly... do you know many girls raising their fists at people? We're afraid of her like we're afraid of rabid dogs. Just attacks without thinking. I think it's got to do with her parents... She's unstable. I hear she's fucking Puck. Really? I heard she was fucking that other guy – what's his name? Who doesn't she fuck?_

She should have seen this coming because back when they were 'friends' and Quinn had trusted her, the blonde had once given her one very important little tidbit of information. During a sleepover Quinn had been tipsy and Brittany had gone to the bathroom. A dark shadow had passed over her face and she had leaned into Santana, whispering:

_The right way to get to be the best is by destroying the one already on top. _

She had thought she had already done that to Quinn... but she had forgotten that one detail of their conversation that could have saved her a lot of trouble.

_But don't go too far... You just want them quiet. Push too hard and you'll either break em or they'll come at you Santana... they'll come at you so hard. Always remember nothing is permanent._

Now here she was, completely obliterated. Brittany was sharing her lunch because someone had stolen hers. She had caught him at it. But where she would have normally snarled and jumped at him... she had backed away, because Quinn had truly revoked her status. He would have fought her back and as good a punch as she could throw, she didn't want to have her jaw or nose broken for a sandwich. It was only a small part of her punishment.

"I talked to her."

Santana looked up at Brittany slowly.

"You talked to Quinn?" She tried not to sound too relieved but she had pinned her hopes on Brittany. Santana – who normally hated asking for anyone's help – depended on Brittany, the sweet if somewhat slow Cheerio.

As much as she cared about the blonde... even loved her... the fact that Brittany had more clout than she did left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Yeah."

Santana sat there and waited. Realising that Brittany wouldn't take the hint, she added:

"So what did you say? And what did she say?"

"Umm I told her I didn't like how people were attacking you. It hurt my feelings and made me sad. She told me she liked me but she wasn't going to do anything about the attacks."

"Fantastic." She took a bite out of the apple Brittany had given her, ignoring the bits of food people were sporadically flicking at the back of her head.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Santana sighed tiredly, feeling a headache growing between her eyes.

"No. It's your fault. You hurt Rachel."

"What?!" That was not the response she had expected.

"Quinn wasn't doing anything. Even when you were being mean. Then you hurt Rachel. That hurt Quinn. So now Quinn's going to hurt you."

"Are you serious? This has nothing to do with Rachel. Rachel was just the last straw. Her newest little buddy. God. She's been wanting to put me down since grade school!"

A piece of muffin hit the furious girl's cheek and Brittany watched almost mesmerized as those dark eyes flared in rage then felt a little ill as all the fight went out of it.

"I don't know about that Santana. She picked you as a friend. If she didn't like you at all she would have put you down like this a long time ago..."

"Whatever. I don't want to talk about it."

Frustrated by her inability to control things the way Quinn could, and angry that Brittany would take that bitch's side.

"I hope you get used to walking." Came that familiar voice, laced with pride and scorn.

"What the fuck did you do to my car you blonde little cu-" Her ire died the instant she locked eyes with Quinn. The blonde leaned up against the doorframe. She oozed confidence so thick Santana struggled to breathe. She could see Brittany hovering nervously from farther away, obviously wary of calling Quinn's attention to her. There were limits to Quinn's kindness toward the tall blonde.

"I didn't do anything. Don't know who did it. Don't care. But you're going to need new tires."

Santana turned red, wanting desperately to lash out but held firmly in place by those calm hazel eyes. Those eyes that looked upon the Latina with simple, hard truth: Santana would do nothing. She could almost feel the sickening weight of Quinn on her. The command she wielded at her leisure. Quinn was still furious and her rage was cold. An empty frozen abyss ready to swallow Santana whole and she would willingly fall forward into it because denying Quinn seemed unfathomable.

So Santana stood there numb and drowning in her anger but bound by that hard gaze. A little smirk arose on Quinn's lips and Santana knew more vicious barbs were coming her way.

But they never came.

Instead, Quinn's eyes darted just past Santana and went soft. Santana took a breath, unaware she had been holding it, as the power that had been so tightly coiled around Quinn seemed to disappear. The Latina was almost stricken by Quinn's suddenly releasing her.

Santana frowned in confusion as something akin to tenderness flickered over Quinn's face. Then the blonde walked away from her without a word. Santana turned abruptly to find whatever it was that had stopped Quinn's warpath – where she was going. At first she didn't see anyone special, but then her jaw dropped open.

Rachel Berry's eyes locked on her own as Quinn walked over to her. She didn't miss the way Quinn brushed her finger tips along Rachel's forearm. Then Rachel turned away from Santana and the two girls walked off together.

Santana barely took notice of Brittany walking over to her to hug her and offer her comfort. There was no doubt now, what she had done wrong. If anyone had hurt Brittany, she would have annihilated them. There would be no mercy and no time wasted. Santana had hurt Rachel and Quinn was only doing what Santana herself would have done.

She was amazed and disgusted that they were together. She was felt ill because now she knew.

The only way out of this wasn't to send Brittany over to Quinn, with her puppy dog eyes... or even to apologise to Quinn. She had to earn favour with Rachel fucking Berry.


	3. Calling a Truce

A/N: New installment :) Much love and adoration for my two betas! Zippadedoodah, for picking apart my plot, and Susurrus Night, for fixing my English! They have helped me turn my drivel into a story ;)

Some warnings: Dom/Sub play, minor violence (some sexual), dark content/angsty aaaaaaand fisting

Reviews are much appreciated :D

* * *

Brittany's soft blonde hair felt nice, curled around her fingers. The locks were cool to the touch, without a single knot to mar them, and Santana would love to be able to play with them in public. But it was only ever Brittany who played with Santana's hair in public. Because it was okay for Brittany to do that: to everyone else Brittany was a simpleton. Santana was – or had been – one of the top girls of the school. She slept with guys like Puck. She did _not_ sleep with dimwitted blonde girls.

And she didn't; Brittany was no dimwit. She didn't allow anyone to call Brittany any variation of the word 'dumb', but she also didn't tell anyone that they had a more than friendly relationship. Santana was comfortable with the open relationship they had and not ready to let anyone else know about it. Brittany had nearly ruined everything when she outed the two of them over the phone, but Santana had waved it off and the Gleeks hadn't been stupid enough to spread the word. Things didn't change, so she could taste and touch Brittany whenever she wanted to all the while fucking Puck on the side when she was in the mood. Brittany herself dated guys on the side, but no matter what happened they were always together.

They came home to one another; the others were just mini-vacations. Brittany was _hers_ no matter who touched her. Santana was never jealous and neither was Brittany. They were happy together.

Santana couldn't suppress a small smile as Brittany nuzzled deeper into her neck and wrapped one long, amazingly toned leg around Santana's waist. The glow of the television made Brittany look ethereal in the dark room. It was almost disturbing, reminding Santana of the time when – as kids – Brittany had gone to elementary school claiming that one of her ancestors was an elf. Santana had argued with the girl 'til she was red in the face, trying to point out that elves weren't real in spite of Brittany's unwavering belief. But deep down, she found Brittany strange and a bit mysterious; part of her had wondered if maybe it was possible, as they played fairyland. Of course she got over it and Brittany herself had decided after a few weeks that her ancestors were really royalty, instead. That started another round of arguments and a new round of games where Santana was King and Brittany was Queen.

"This is nice. It's been a while."

Santana said nothing, blinking away the memories of her childhood to focus on her more urgent and recent past. Her libido had died down recently, since Quinn wrapped the whole school around her finger. Guys didn't want to be seen with her. Even Puck had stopped calling her, fearing Quinn's wrath. The never-ending abuse was also stressing her out. Her energy for sex had been lacking and Brittany's patience had to have been wearing thin, if that night's strenuous activity was any indication.

"Yeah, I know babe..." she breathed in Brittany's hair and snuggled deeper into her bed.

"You need to talk to Quinn."

It was difficult to focus on what Brittany was saying when she was tracing weird little words on Santana's stomach. When she had asked what Brittany wrote, the girl had told her it was in Dutch and she wouldn't get it.

"Don't be ridiculous Brit... Quinn would probably eat me alive. I need to focus on Rachel."

"But you need Quinn."

Santana frowned at that, not entirely sure what Brittany was trying to say.

"I don't _need_ that white trash slut. All I need is for her to leave me the fuck alone." She shifted on the bed to get a better look at Brittany, glad that it didn't creak as much as her own did. Not that Brittany's parents were particularly concerned about Santana. They trusted her with their daughter. The same could not be said of Santana's more conservative family.

"Don't call her that." Brittany sighed and sat up against the bed frame.

"Preggo and that rabid midget are fucking."

Brittany shifted on her bed to face Santana better.

"An Eggo and a badger?"

Santana stared at Brittany for a long moment. Those crystalline blue eyes stared back at her, nonplussed.

"No... Preggo – that would be Fabray – and Berry – that would be the rabid... never mind. They're having sex. That's why Quinn is trying to kill me."

"She's not trying to kill you. She just wants to hurt you."

Santana's eyes narrowed as she tried to follow along with Brittany. Talking to her had a tendency to turn stressful when Santana didn't keep up. Most people assumed Brittany couldn't follow along with the average conversation, but after years with Brittany, Santana had figured out that the problem really lay with whoever spoke to Brittany. The girl was usually light years ahead of the conversation and had a tendency to fixate on certain points of a topic that only _appeared_ meaningless. Sometimes Santana wondered if Brittany only pretended to be stupid in order to amuse herself.

So in two sentences Brittany conveyed several things: she wasn't surprised about Quinn and Rachel's relationship. She had to have been aware it was coming. And she had left Santana in the dark about it. _That_ pissed Santana off. Brittany had known Quinn's motivations beforehand and hadn't warned Santana of a damn thing!

Questions ran through her mind in rapid succession.

"What the hell Brit?! You couldn't tell me this before that goddamn slushie attack? Look at me! I'm being fucked with by the entire school! They're treating me like shit!"

"I didn't really know. I mean, it's not like they told me or I saw them. It's not right to say stuff you don't know to be real. And you can still fix this."

At that Santana jumped off the bed and stood ramrod straight, absolutely furious at the calm woman still sitting on the bed comfortably.

"Fix it? Fix it! Do you know how many years I spent protecting you?! Fighting idiots left and right who wanted to pick on you!" The betrayal was sharp and deep, particularly since Brittany was all she had left. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Brittany flinched and it was all Santana could do to remember why she was pissed off in the first place and not let those hurt baby blues melt her on the spot. Especially since Brittany was still very naked with the blankets tangled up around her legs.

"I'm not trying to hurt you, I'm trying to help. I didn't think I had to tell you to stay away from Rachel. Everyone else seemed to figure it out. I thought you –"

"Do I give a damn about staying away from _Berry_? You realise how ridiculous that sounds? That _I_ need to stay away from that anal retentive freak in argyle! You should have told me Brittany! What the hell!"

What upset her most was how calm Brittany seemed. Normally when Santana was upset with her, Brittany would go out of her way to appease Santana's temper. Instead she sat there looking delectable and mildly bemused. It was frustrating.

"You fucked me over."

"Santana..."

"No. I'm not happy." She averted her eyes and got dressed quickly, ignoring the heat building up behind her eyes. She would _not_ cry.

"You need Quinn."

"Fuck you." Santana froze at the door, unable to believe she had actually said that to Brittany. But when she turned around all Brittany did was watch her with a clenched jaw. The girl could burst into tears when someone told her she couldn't have some tiny trinket, but she just stared at Santana when told to fuck off.

"You still need Quinn."

"I don't need Quinn! God you are so... so... so!" Her face turned red as she struggled to stifle her outrage. With a snarl she slammed the door on her way out.

Brittany sighed at the door, feeling a little hurt and a little excited.

She knew what she was doing. Everything would be alright in the end.

****

Rachel sat at her table and stared at the computer screen, caught between sadness and joy.

People were watching her MySpace videos. They were watching and commenting. _Positive _comments. There was actual praise for her. No one mocked her. And while it should have made her ecstatic it only left a bitter taste in her mouth. It was difficult, adjusting to her new status.

Ever since that first day in elementary school, when a boy named Josh threw sand in her hair and everyone laughed, she had been waiting for this day. The day when people recognized her for her worth. People were talking to her, inviting her to parties and demanding her attention. It was up to her whether or not to dismiss them. And they came to her in flocks. She was popular.

Only she wasn't. Quinn was popular. Rachel was only leeching off of her. And it was strange, because it hadn't bothered her so much when she was chasing after Finn. The boy had almost the same potential as Quinn. She was supposed to latch onto him and _then _people would recognize her.

But with Quinn, things weren't so simple. After that first night together, things got very complicated. Quinn had been vulnerable and Rachel had no idea what she was doing. They both quickly realised that they had stumbled upon something important and dangerous but they didn't know what to do about it.

Rachel would never forget the way the blonde had exposed herself, her every wound on display, and all because of Rachel's touch. It was a heady power, the ability to make someone so defenceless, and it kind of scared her. It had scared Quinn too. Instead of moving forward, they stepped back. They started a careful dance, watching what they said to one another. But everything had changed.

Just thinking about how attached she had become to her former tormentor made her want to hyperventilate. She could not watch a girl bare her beautiful, damaged soul to her and feel nothing.

She wasn't supposed to feel that way. Rachel had mapped out a good chunk of her life by the age of seven and falling into a deeply confusing and powerful relationship did not enter into the equation. Least of all by the age of sixteen. She was petrified.

Rachel clicked to the next page, reading more praise, her ears on alert for when Quinn came home from her therapy session. They hadn't talked about Quinn's sessions and that was okay by Rachel.

_Omg that was amazing srsly! U shud get a record deal babe!_

She smiled weakly at the comment, painfully aware that the girl who wrote it had once organized a snowball attack on her that had left her bruised for almost two weeks.

The front door creaked as it opened and shut, making Rachel stiffen. She listened as Quinn walked to her own bedroom like she had every night since they'd slept together.

She wondered if Quinn was as conflicted as she was. The stoic girl kept close to Rachel and was even friendly but there was a distance between them. Neither of them were comfortable talking about what had happened.

And she didn't know what bothered her more: that they weren't exploring what was one of the most intense moments of her life, or that she felt relieved that she could stall things a little longer.

Sighing to herself, she clicked the window closed and settled on her bed to study, carefully pretending that she wasn't listening for Quinn.

****

Santana had never been much of a planner. It was what always held her back at Quinn's little games. All her life she had been a nobody; grow up as one of too many kids in one little house with a single mother and you get forgotten. She was the youngest in her family. One of five kids. Everyone looked out for themselves and everyone was an asshole. Her only sister ran away from home at fifteen, high on drugs and useless. She learned about life from her older brothers and her worn out ghost of a mother.

Her femininity was resilient, so even in a house full of boys she had managed to learn about womanhood. Learned mainly from her friends and the media, which was fucked up. No one could distort womanhood more than idiots her own age and the TV. But Santana was smart. She picked up on a lot of guy stuff from her brothers that she quickly realised every girl should have too. So she grew a backbone that could tough things out, even with her eldest brother, and an attitude that got things done.

But she wasn't a planner. She was just a doer. Granted, she normally wouldn't go into something completely unprepared, but even her backbone was suffering from all the abuse at school. So when she decided to completely wing it when talking to Rachel, she knew she was biting off more than she could chew. She had hoped to seduce the girl.

"Ray-chel." Santana winced at how awkward and stupid the name sounded as it fell from her lips. Old habits told her to sneer and find a way to make it seem like she had fumbled on purpose. As if it were some sort of joke on her part. But she had spent two weeks avoiding Brittany and stalking Rachel, and it just wasn't worth screwing everything up by acting a bitch now. When else would she get a chance to snag some alone time with the irritating little dwarf?

If Rachel wasn't surrounded by Gleeks then she was surrounded by simpering idiots who were trying to get into Quinn's good book by playing nice with her socially deficient best friend. And then Quinn herself would be watching from a distance, making sure Santana didn't spend too much time feeling safe or comfortable.

But not this time. Glee practice had finished and Rachel was walking to her car alone. Quinn had apparently fallen ill in the meantime. Santana might never get another chance.

"Hey Rachel!" She snapped, when the girl barely paused in her walk. That tone made her stop at the driver's side door and turn around.

"Santana, I will have you know that while I may be statistically smaller than you and the majority of McKinley I have taken self-defense lessons for five years and have been ranked the top student in my class." At Santana's blank stare she added: "We specialized in fending off opponents with masses greater than our own."

Santana's lip quirked a little because she was fairly certain Rachel was scared of her by the way she held her bag to her chest. So either she was lying about the lessons or Santana still had the ability to strike fear in the hearts of nerds. It brightened up her stressful day considerably. So she went forward with her plan feeling a lot more confident.

"I'm not here to attack you Rachel," the sarcasm helped mask her discomfort. "I'm just here to talk."

"What is it?" She opened the door, eager to put a barrier between them.

"I..." She trailed off, her cockiness deflating at the sound of some jocks walking by, laughing. She instinctively moved around Rachel's car to hide and stay out of their line of sight. Her heart sped up, hands got sweaty and she felt sick. She had never stayed around the school after hours, but before it used to be about how lame it was to stick around when school was over. Now she was mainly panicking. She had become number one on everyone's hit list.

"Not exactly a happy place to be is it?" Rachel relaxed a little. "It's kind of weird actually... them making me feel safer around you when they used to... well, you know."

Santana stared at Rachel with an unreadable expression. It had never really occurred to her that Rachel had suffered because of her. She could be so damn resilient and irritating. And now Rachel was fucking Fabray, who was the ultimate bitch and tormentor. But her quiet disposition and battle weary gaze gave Santana an idea.

"I'm sorry." Rachel scoffed, making her elaborate: "I know what I've done to you is bad. I've always known."

"Okay."

"If I knew then what I know now..."

"Of course you wouldn't do it a second time around. Or – at least – you'd do it without getting caught." She smiled wryly at the way Santana's eyes avoided her own. "See, you didn't really learn anything. You're just unhappy because she's punishing you."

Santana froze as Rachel slipped into the driver's seat and shut the door. Her chance was getting away from her.

"Okay. Okay!" She snarled, knocking on the window until Rachel slid it open. "I can't say that I'm regretting it for any other reason than getting caught."

Rachel sighed and started the ignition.

"Wait!" Holding onto the window ledge, she tried to keep her desperation to a minimum. "You're the better person alright? I'd never argue otherwise." She watched as Rachel's knuckles turned white on the steering wheel so she sped things up. "You _are _the better person. So I know you aren't going to let this keep going."

Rachel said nothing. Anxiety started choking Santana up. She was a major bitch, a vicious Cheerio, but even she had her limits after two months of agony. Never would she admit to begging or trying to appeal to someone's sympathy, but she had run out of options.

"Come on Rachel! They're doing more than throwing slushies in my damn face! They're destroying my shit, they're spitting on me! I can't... I'm not like you for God's sake; I'm not cut out for this. Isn't it enough? You didn't make Quinn go through this and she's done worse stuff to you than I have!"

"_Stop._" She hissed at Santana, who paused immediately. "Don't you _dare_ compare yourself to Quinn! You're entirely different people." She switched gears out of park. "And I didn't have to punish her, life punished her for me. Now step away from the car, Lopez."

Santana watched as Rachel started pulling out from the parking lot. Old, familiar anger resurfaced.

"Fine! Just go then! Just _fuck_ me Berry! Just like your girlfriend did years ago! Did you make her cum half as hard as I did?! Yeah! You – HEY!" She jumped back as the car violently jerked backwards, Rachel accidently hitting the gas instead of the brakes in her shock. But she recovered quickly enough, stopping before she slammed into the car behind her. And then the little midget - in her five foot two glory – jumped out of the car in the middle of the parking lot and stalked over to Santana.

"What did you say?" Rachel's voice cracked and she stared at Santana with wide eyes.

Santana held her position though she was inwardly worried that the jocks had heard the commotion, and seeing Rachel all flustered, would promptly beat the crap out of her.

"Queen Fabray didn't tell you? Did you think you were her first?" Santana smirked, canting her head at Rachel condescendingly. Anger was better than fear; she clung to her rage and indignation.

"She's been with Puck... just Puck. You... you're just messing with me!"

"Oh no she's been with Puck. No question about that." Her smile grew wider. "And me. And Brittany too. You know us girls... we _three _were always so close."

Rachel turned pale.

"I guess she hasn't told you. Makes sense... why would clean little Quinn Fabray tell her new girlfriend about the lesbian threesome she had with her two friends from high school?"

"Wh-what? Threesome?" Rachel looked absolutely dumbfounded and horrified.

"Yeah. Threesome. Me and Brittany. And her."

The two of them stood a meter apart. Santana had crossed her arms around her chest, pretending it was to intimidate the brunette and not to protect herself. She had been stupid, exposing herself and Quinn like that. Quinn would be uber-pissed and Santana had probably fallen even further out of what little of Rachel's good graces she could have grabbed onto.

Rachel was stunned and dazed, making Santana nervous.

"We did it. I mean, it was a long time ago. But we did it..."

"Both of you... at the same time."

"Yeah... that's how threesomes work." She tried to keep herself from mocking the girl too much.

"What... she never... we..."

"I... probably shouldn't have said anything." She swallowed hard, fear creeping up her spine at the thought of how Quinn would have a fucking explosion waiting for her. She would have to leave the state and start over... but that was the whole point of being a Cheerio, to leave the state. If she could have done it any time then she would have done it years ago.

"She didn't say anything..."

"Okay, like, relax. It didn't mean anything. I only said it to piss you off and make you stop leaving." She tried to fix things before Rachel ratted her out. "I just... like I said, I'm not cut out for this."

Rachel turned away and silently made her way back to the car, freezing when Santana grabbed her wrist.

"Rachel!" She choked on her frustration. The last thing she wanted to do was be sincere. But if all else failed she knew sincerity would work with Rachel. And she was damned tired of the torture and constant, nagging anxiety that had started following her around at school.

Her grades were dropping, her skills at Cheerio practice were flailing and she was swiftly losing her grip on her one way ticket the hell out of Lima.

"Rachel, please. She didn't tell you because it didn't matter to her at all." When Rachel refused to turn around she tried again. "I just... I can't take it anymore Rachel. Please. Call her off. I'm not going to go near you, okay? I promise."

"Let me go."

Santana dropped her hand away and watched mutely as Rachel stepped back into her car and drove off. She felt paralyzed, standing there and gawking at what was left of her dignity.

_Fuck._

"Well, well, well.... if it ain't Santy. Bitch, who the _fuck _told you that you could stick around here?" Someone laughed behind her.

She turned around to see five guys from the basketball team laughing and watching her.

"I dunno man, way she looks in those Cheerio skirts... I don't mind her stickin' around. Bet you'd like it if I stuck it to you, eh babe?"

Santana shifted her feet on the pavement, trying to get a better stance.

"Fuck off."

They jeered and laughed, amused by her antics.

"Ooooo chica is gonna fight back!"

"Is she this spicy in bed?"

"Oh man you know what would be awesome?! When, in a million years, would we ever be allowed to shove a Cheerio in a fucking Porta-Pottie and get away with it?"

At that they hooted and hollered and Santana was off running, cursing them out and hating the world. But they were runners too.

And so they caught her.

****

Rachel came home, quiet and awkward. She could sense Quinn and her parents giving her weird looks but she told them she was tired so they gave her space.

When dinner was finished she darted up to her room quickly, trying to avoid Quinn. But it was a moot point because not five minutes after she had closed the door, Quinn was knocking.

"Come in..."

She lay on her back on the bed and looked up at Quinn with new eyes. The intensity of the stare clearly shook the blonde, who stood at the door nervously looking back at her.

"Are you alright?" Quinn's voice was raspy from the throat infection she'd been fighting off all week. Technically she wasn't allowed anywhere near Rachel, as per Rachel's orders, but where the rules were practically written in stone for others, they were more guidelines for Quinn.

"Yes. I'm fine."

There was more silence and Quinn let herself into the room. She sat by Rachel's hip, running her fingers over Rachel's. Her therapist had encouraged her to start giving Rachel some minor physical contact when she had talked about her jumbled up feelings for her. Quinn wasn't normally very touchy – Finn could attest to that – but her therapist had suggested she try being more relaxed.

She didn't notice the way Rachel stiffened as she started caressing her hand. Quinn's mind wandered away to comfortable evenings with Rachel and the game night they would be having later. They still weren't talking very much but it was fun, playing those games. It made her feel like a part of the family. While Quinn lost herself in thought, Rachel watched her.

Rachel had no idea how she felt about finding out that Quinn had slept with both Brittany and Santana. Simultaneously.

What little she had figured out was that she was furious. Angry that Quinn had kept this from her and she had to find out from Santana of all people. Mad that someone had stolen being Quinn's first woman away from her. If she were completely honest, she would admit to jealousy. If she were to look too deeply, she would find herself aroused.

And then guilty and frustrated because she wasn't sure what she was more jealous of: that Quinn had slept with two other women before her, or that she was finding herself in an increasingly complicated relationship with Quinn that would probably end up with her only ever having experienced sex with one woman. And technically, it wasn't right for her to feel jealous, since they hadn't really defined or moved forward in their relationship anyway.

It frightened her how utterly final everything felt. Quinn was the one. She could sense it more definitively every day, but she wanted to experience more. And Quinn had so many issues to get through before she could – or should - settle down.

Which was why Rachel decided not to say anything stupid; Quinn really didn't need someone accusing her of having a threesome with her two female former friends. It would have been cruel and foolish on Rachel's part. She made a mental note to ask Brittany for the truth the next time she saw her alone.

Santana could have been bullshitting her. The look on her face had been so intense that Rachel had gotten sucked in. Shock could have easily clouded Rachel's judgement and made her perceive honesty where there had been none. It was just such a convoluted story that it had taken her aback. Former head Cheerio, Celibacy Club president Quinn Fabray had a threesome with her two best friends?

Rachel let herself smirk a little before she entwined their fingers and tugged Quinn down beside her so they could cuddle.

The idea was ludicrous. But she was Rachel Berry, too neurotic to simply let it go, so she would make sure of it with Brittany.

****

"Oh Brittany... your grammar is all over the place..."

"Yeah, I know..."

Rachel fought the urge to tear her hair out. Things were not going according to plan.

A few days previous, she had offered to help Brittany work on her essay on global warming for their World Issues class, hoping to find a way to talk to her about what Santana had said.

She had picked the most secluded corner of the public library to talk to Brittany, which seemed to confuse her momentarily, but before Rachel could ask Brittany had simply shrugged and taken her seat at the table. Rachel had hoped to spend about ten minutes or so looking over the paper and then find a way to talk to Britt about Santana. But ten minutes ended up being an hour.

"Brittany! You can't just say it's getting warmer." She tried to keep her voice lower. "Seriously. You wrote five pages without any proper citation or mention of scientific study."

Her anal-retentiveness was hit hard and Rachel found herself signing out several books on Brittany's behalf – because she didn't have her own library card – and started outlining Brittany's arguments.

For the most part, Brittany sat there looking pretty and nodding at everything Rachel said.

"Okay... let's take a break." Rachel sighed wearily.

"Sorry. If I knew we were actually going to like, write stuff up, I would have worked a little harder." Brittany murmured, playing with her hair serenely. Rachel's left eye twitched dangerously.

"Brittany." She started slowly, the strain obvious in her voice. "I said we were going to the library. To edit. To work. What exactly did you think we were going to be doing?"

"Oh." She smirked at Rachel. "Well you said we'd find a quiet spot in the library. Where, like, no one would bother us. And then you took us here where the librarians can't see us. This is a make out spot." She watched as Rachel turned an awful red colour. Reaching out to brush her fingers over Rachel's cheek, which made her flinch, Brittany frowned in worry. "Are you okay? You're really warm. You might have a fever or something."

"I'm fine." She couldn't stop the little shake in her voice. Brittany had given her the distinct impression that she had thought they were going to be making out. And that Brittany was okay with that. It wasn't easy making Rachel dumbfounded but somehow it had happened twice in one week.

"So like... we're taking a break now. Did you wanna go somewhere? Or we could stay here." Brittany shifted forward in her seat, her lean frame sneaking in a little closer to Rachel's jittery one.

"Uhhh... let's – let's go somewhere." Rachel was sure it was bad for her complexion to be that red for so long. She let out an odd, forced chuckle as she got up from her seat a little too quickly, knocking the chair over. While Rachel struggled, Brittany calmly picked up the chair as she got up and put her things away.

"There's that coffee place outside. I should probably have some if we're actually going to study."

"Hahahaha, yes, study."

By the time they made it to the cafe Rachel had calmed down considerably. Brittany was a weird girl so Rachel dismissed the weird conversation, deciding that they had simply misunderstood one another.

With their coffees and a biscuit for Rachel, they sat across from one another, Brittany watching traffic and Rachel marvelling at how relaxed the other girl was.

"So... how have you been?"

"Umm... not so good." Brittany turned to her coffee and stirred it lazily.

"What's wrong?" It felt weird talking to Brittany outside of Glee Club. They were normally on polar opposites of the social spectrum. But now, with Quinn's influence, Rachel was both outside of social circles and above them. Her status was elevated yet still separate.

"Well, I had a fight with Santana."

Rachel perked up immediately.

"What did Santana do?"

"She's pissed off that I didn't tell her you and Quinn were together before she slushied you."

"You – you knew about that? I mean... we're not exactly together..." Rachel gaped, shaking her head. "Well, why didn't you tell her?"

"Because... it's like... complicated. Basically, if she knew about you guys she would have done stuff to you but tried not to get caught. I don't like her without Quinn."

"Umm… what?" Rachel was beginning to wonder why she had ever thought she could have a coherent conversation with Brittany.

"You can't say anything to anyone." She waited for Rachel to nod. "Santana likes being a bitch. Likes it a lot."

"No kidding..." Rachel tried to joke, sobering up at Brittany's look.

"She's not really that bad a person; it's just really hard for her to like anyone. And she has, like, issues, about being in charge. She wants to be the one who controls stuff. But she's not cut out for it. She forgets herself. Becomes really mean. A lot more mean than she should. If I told her 'bout you and Quinn, she would have been sooooo mean."

"So... you were protecting me?"

At that Brittany laughed a little.

"You're okay, Rachel, but no. I did it to protect Santana."

"Santana? But she's always in trouble now isn't she?"

"Yeah..." Brittany's face fell. "Quinn had always been so good at keeping Santana like..."

"In check?"

"Yeah! I just needed Quinn to step up again. I figured if Santana pissed her off enough, Quinn would step in and take control again. I just... I didn't expect her to be so mad. You make Quinn forget herself. I think she's also been mad for so long that she's kinda going crazy."

"H – how bad? I mean I knew people were throwing slushies and calling her names..."

"I haven't been talking to her all that much lately since she's pissed but..." she trailed off, looking out the window. "She hasn't been in school for like three days now. I heard the basketball team beat her up and tossed her around in a Porta-Potty."

"Beat her up?!" She winced as everyone in the cafe looked in her direction. "They did _not _beat her up. You can't be serious." Her voice lowered.

"Yeah, I don't see them beating her up. I mean there was probably some fighting though. Santana would never go without a fight. I kinda believe the Porta-Potty thing. Those cleaning people had to come in and fix it."

"Well..." Rachel gritted her teeth. "It's not as if she wouldn't have laughed her butt off if it had happened to someone else."

"True. But then... I would have laughed a while ago. So would have Quinn. She might've laughed now already."

"She doesn't care about who she hurts." It upset Rachel, knowing how comfortable Quinn would have been allowing such a thing to happen to her only a year ago.

"She does too care." Brittany finished off her coffee. "But she only cares about those who matter to her. I'm not saying she's like... Buddha or something... but I think Quinn is going too far."

"She... she probably doesn't know what's happening."

Brittany didn't say anything at first, just watched Rachel. It almost disturbed her, like those blue eyes were observing something within her that she didn't want noticed.

"You picked the right one."

"Huh?"

"Finn is the hottest guy in school. But he's got no balls. I mean really, if you wanted power, Quinn was the way to go. And you got her good. You got her where it counts. Forever, probably." She grabbed Rachel's hand. "I'm glad you're together. But Santana's mine. I love her. It hurts me when she hurts. So talk to Quinn for me, get her to talk to Santana. 'Cause seriously, I'm getting pissed off. I didn't get to be one of the top three girls because they needed another blonde."

The little smile on Brittany's face made her skin crawl.

"Uhh... I'll see what I can do."

"Okay. Cool." Her smile widened to her more genuine 'Brittany the Lovable' expression. She let go of Rachel's hand, which darted under the safety of the table even though she hadn't been squeezing it in any way. "So what did you really come here for?"

"I-I-I what?" She sputtered nervously, still reeling from the weird version of Brittany she had met not two minutes ago.

"Well you didn't wanna make out with me. And you weren't concentrating so much when you were showing me how to do my work. I thought you'd, like... have written instructions or something."

"Oh... yes." Rachel flushed, not sure how to respond. "Well it was just... Santana said... I mean it doesn't matter I guess. She was just trying to mess with my head I think."

"What'd she say?"

"She just... she said that you..." Rachel laughed so hard it almost came out as braying. "You and Santana had _slept _with Quinn." She chuckled a little, her face still red.

"You mean like... sleepovers or sex?"

"S-sex."

"Oh. That was a while ago."

Dead silence.

"So you did. Have sex. With Quinn."

"Yeah. One time thing. It was kinda hot."

"Hot?!" She accidentally kicked her bag over. Bringing her voice down to a whisper so people would stop taking notice of them, she leaned forward. "You can't be serious. You had a threesome with Quinn and Santana. You expect me to believe that."

"I don't know..." Brittany leaned in too, making Rachel nervous. "You don't have to believe it. I don't think even Quinn believes it. But it was hot. I mean it would have been even hotter if she knew herself better that night. You know, she's more of a bottom than a top. That night she kinda fought to be the top but was scared. It was sweet. Santana is an all out top. I think that's why they didn't end up killing each other. I'm kinda jealous, I think Santana liked her taste more than mine."

Brittany pouted and talked as if she were discussing the weather, not Quinn's sex life. Rachel felt a little dizzy and found herself staring at Brittany's lips.

"I think I should go." She managed to blurt out.

"Okay, Rachel." Brittany stood up with her. "I hope you'll still help me with my paper."

"Really?" Rachel scoffed, her indignation quick to cover for her mortification. "You just tell me you orchestrated this convoluted plan to basically make Quinn back into the bitch she was a year ago just so your relationship issues with Santana can be-" She choked on her words when Brittany abruptly captured her in a hug.

"I'm sorry Rachel. I didn't want Quinn to be a bitch. I want her happy too. I think you and I need to work to make both our girls happy. So stop being mad at me so much, okay?" She leaned back, her arms still wrapped around the smaller girl. "Santana and Quinn need to talk too. I think we can fix things if you want."

There was no doubt in her mind that having so much blood situated in her head for an hour had done some permanent damage. Brittany's warm body was doing inappropriate things to her own and their faces were too close. Several people were watching with interest but Rachel couldn't bring herself to care.

"I'll.... I'll talk to Quinn." She managed to say, slowly, trying not to focus on Brittany's breath on her face. It smelled minty.

"Awesome!" She gave Rachel another squeeze before she fumbled in her bag for a pen. Rachel groaned when the girl tore off a sheet of her library book. "Here's my number. We should talk more about how to do this. Santana and Quinn are like, really high maintenance."

"Sure..." She stuffed the note in her pocket as they made their way out.

"Oh and you know, we could like, meet up at the library to work things out. I'll try and get more of my paper done before we meet up." She cast Rachel one last look before she turned toward where she parked her car. "We could do a lot of things at the library."

"Right..."

Rachel watched as Brittany walked off. She had no idea what had just happened.

****

Quinn and Rachel had learned a lot about each other, far too much in such a short time span. Eventually, after a few really loud arguments, Quinn started seeing a therapist. It was only because Rachel's fathers had noticed the sudden tension in the house and Leroy had accidently walked in on one of their epic rages.

Quinn wasn't ready to tell him everything but Leroy quickly gleaned that she had issues. It wasn't much of a surprise to him. You don't just end up homeless, give birth, give away the baby and walk around well adjusted. So he talked to Quinn individually. Rachel brought up way too many emotions for her to remain collected.

In their discussion he asked her if she might want to seek help. She told him she didn't want any.

"_You know Quinn... I won't force you to do anything. You've been through a lot. I was just wondering if maybe you'd be willing to go for one session. Just to see how it goes. You know I don't give a crap about the money. You can pay me back when you're rich and useful." _

She had laughed, relaxed, and gone to a session. Then she went to many more sessions. Slowly, she was growing to feel better about herself.

"Quinn, you've got to call things off on Santana."

She turned off her iPod, her thoughts jerking to the present. Quinn sat up from her position on the shed's roof. Rachel's fathers didn't approve of her climbing on top of it, said it was too dangerous, but Quinn found some comfort in it, especially at night when she could just barely make out the stars in the sky.

"You should also be inside studying. The exam next Tuesday is supposed to be difficult. _And _you know climbing up the shed is prohibited."

Quinn turned on her side and peered at Rachel.

"Okay... First, I'm not doing anything to Santana. Second, I've studied enough for today, mother. Third, I know, his exams are always hard. Lastly, it's only like three meters tall. For Christ's sake Rachel I used to be a cheerleader, I was leaping ten feet in the air."

"You had a threesome with Santana and Brittany."

Rachel was a little miffed that the darkness hid Quinn's expression. After all the random attacks on her sanity in the past few days, she really wished someone else could suffer the smackdown of a powerful revelation. But she couldn't make out Quinn's expression. If she hadn't been so damn flustered after her meeting with Brittany she would have planned this out better so she could squeeze out the drama.

"Santana told you this." Quinn appeared calm, her voice level.

"And Brittany." She paused. "Brittany is kind of strange."

At that Quinn let herself sit up and dangle her legs over the edge. She jumped down easily and fluidly, making Rachel's mouth water unconsciously. It was hard, keeping her hands to herself or her thoughts in order when Quinn walked around like a smooth feline.

"It doesn't matter what we did. It was nothing. We were stupid."

"Were you drunk?" Rachel was actually surprised Quinn was being so candid. She figured the therapy must have done something.

"No.... not drunk." Quinn played with the cord connected to her headphones. She sat down on the grass and leaned up against the shed wall. Rachel followed suit next to her.

"So... what... exactly... happened?"

"Rachel..." she laughed a little. "Are you shy? I never thought I'd see you shy."

"Well I don't really know what we are... together or not. I'm... I'm confused."

"I see that..." Quinn smiled and decided to cut Rachel a break. "Basically I woke up in the middle of the night – we were sleeping over at Brittany's, the three of us – and they were going at it right next to me."

"WHAT?! Are you kidding? They were fornicating right there?"

"Doesn't fornicating mean sex for the purpose of making babies? I don't think they can do that. Your vocabulary is slacking." She clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth in amusement.

"Oh honestly, you know this is making me all... all weird..." She paused, her mind working overtime. "And you're wrong. Fornicating is about people having sex outside of marriage. Generally focusing on members of the opposite sex though. Stop trying to distract me!"

Quinn laughed loudly, which made Rachel smile.

"Anyway... yeah they were having sex. I think Brittany noticed I was awake but didn't say anything. But when it was Santana's turn...."

"Oh my God..."

"Yes... it was Santana's turn. Brittany told her they should move to another room so I wouldn't be disturbed. Santana got pissed off.... I'm not exactly sure how we all started having sex... but yeah. We had sex. And I... haven't mentioned it to anyone before. Except my therapist. And you, now."

"You never talked about it to anyone?"

"Nope."

"That must have been difficult."

Quinn shrugged. She didn't know how to explain to Rachel that really it wasn't all that difficult for her. People were remarkably adept at smothering their memories. It was why a lot of that night was still a blur to her. She couldn't remember her motivations or theirs.

"So like... Santana did stuff to you. And Brittany did stuff to you."

"Yeah..." she frowned, confused by Rachel's struggle to articulate herself. It wasn't normal for her to babble like that.

"So they did everything to you. You didn't do anything to them?"

"Well... no... They'd been doing it for a while, and I didn't have any experience. So they did most of the _stuff_ to me."

"Oh..." Rachel felt like she was boiling in her clothes. "What... what did they do to you?"

"Santana..." she froze. "Oh my God. You're getting off on this?" Quinn burst out laughing as Rachel stuttered.

"Well – it's perfectly normal... I mean... you know... It's just – I..."

"Oh God..." She stopped giggling to catch her breath. "That's just hilarious. You little perv..." She smiled affectionately.

"Heh... yeah..." Rachel managed weakly.

"Santana.... she gave me head. And used her hands. Brittany was mainly focused on my upper half... so to speak..." Quinn smirked a little at Rachel's flustered gawking. "I think Brittany also went down on me at one point too. I came. They had sex. Then I ordered them to never speak of it again. And I went to sleep."

She shrugged like it was nothing, when just a while back it gave her heartburn just thinking about it.

"Wow."

"Yeah..." she got up and wiped her pants for grass stains.

"Where are you going?" Rachel got up a little slower, feeling dizzy.

"Ummm…back home. I need sleep."

"What about Santana?"

"What _about _Santana?"

"You need to talk to her. I also want you to stop all this."

"I'm not doing anything." Quinn's words were curt and smug.

"Quinn I'm not stupid. She's being tortured...."

"Oh please, as if you didn't like it!" Quinn snapped, feeling attacked. "She was a royal bitch to me all this time and then she just... fucked you over like that. She did it in front of me just to hurt me. Well you know what? She's getting what she deserves. I don't tell them a damn thing. They do whatever they want to her."

Rachel gritted her teeth. It was true, the way Quinn went into possessive and protective mode the instant their relationship changed... she had liked it. It was also exhilarating, watching everyone fall over themselves over her. Boys and girls that had scorned her in the past were practically salivating at a chance to earn a glimpse from her. It was a little uncomfortable. She owned the school through Quinn. In the end, Glee had jumped the social ladder because of Quinn and not its own merit. People wanted Rachel because they wanted Quinn.

_Hey Rachel, are those books too heavy for you? Rachel there's a party next week, you're coming right? Rache is that guy bothering you? Rachel, you've got to come with me to the mall tomorrow, I need to find a dress, ask if Quinn can make it alright?_

Santana had pissed Quinn off by hurting Rachel. The school learned this with daunting speed. Quinn had come back with a vengeance and no mercy. People could taste the new rage. And Brittany was right, the malice was unprecedented.

"Quinn... I-I like you a lot. You're right. She's not a nice person and I did like it...." She reached out and ran her finger tips over the Quinn's brow. "But I don't like it anymore... it kind of scares me now."

She left Quinn in the backyard, hoping that she would make things right.

****

A week and a half later Quinn found herself lonely and struggling to figure out what she should do. She knew, by the way her heart nearly imploded at the thought of scaring Rachel, that there was no way she wasn't going to comply. It was torture, Rachel ignoring her and hanging out with Brittany. But her ego and pride were at stake. She also took a lot of pleasure slowly destroying Santana.

In therapy, she had discussed her sadistic tendencies. It was only after Rachel had ordered her to stop everything that she brought up what she was doing to Santana during a session. Watching Santana come back to school every day looking more worn and deadened... it made her feel good. Her therapist suggested that it wasn't so much sadism – because she really had never gone this far before or had felt this good – than the fact that Santana personified the woman Quinn had tried to become. Quinn wore the mask; Santana was the mask she tried to put on.

So in a way, it was her own form of demented self-mutilation – though her therapist would argue that the term was inappropriate. She didn't like learning about this aspect of herself but he had assured her this was progress. What she did to Santana had to stop, and he told her it was guilt that made her reluctant to do so. She wanted to destroy her mask.

But Santana wasn't a mask. She was a human being. And Quinn really looked at her now, taking note of the sluggish way Santana moved, the furious movement of her fearful eyes, and the lack of the spark she used to have. Rachel was right to be scared and Quinn didn't know what she had been thinking.

Rachel had never been subject to such cruelty. Quinn had been encouraging them all, planting seeds of poison everywhere she went, so Santana would feel pain.

It wasn't in her to do this. She would regret it, horribly, when she finally broke Santana the way she had never broken any other human before. As the popular bitch she had always been an indirect cause of people breaking down. She upheld the system. This was the only time she had ever actively singled someone out so accurately. Part of her had always gone soft on Rachel, even during her meanest streak, because Rachel was her ideal. The woman who was so much stronger than herself.

She saw Santana as weak. Her weakness. Santana couldn't even properly rein in the school. It just added to Quinn's disgust. But she had to stop.

She just didn't know how. Well, that wasn't true. The social hierarchy was a fickle bitch. She could easily save Santana. Hell, if she wanted to she could bring her right back to her former position. Rumours would take care of _why _Santana had been yo-yoed to and fro. But what to do with her afterward? Santana would plot and hate and try to stab Quinn in the back. She was too tired for that crap. It would have been simpler – short term – to just break the woman now then have to fight her constantly until they moved the hell away from one another.

She would have to bargain with her.

Quinn blatantly slipped a note into Santana's textbook during class so the girl would be aware of it. Santana barely lifted her head.

****

She wasn't sure why she was at a park waiting for Quinn Fabray. After all, it could be some horrible plan to fuck her over. But at that point Santana was desperate, hoping that Quinn would never want to get her hands dirty so directly as to trick her. Besides, it was an open, public place in the middle of the afternoon. In the very least, Santana had a fighting chance, even if the place was empty on a Thursday.

"Hello Lopez."

Santana instinctively flinched, waiting for whatever was about to befall her. Quinn sat down next to her.

"I'm here to talk."

"What do you want, Fabray?" She didn't even have it in her to throw an insult. Half of her was afraid of the consequences. Quinn had really left her mark.

"You screwed things up with Rachel. She knows about that... thing we did."

"Good." She managed to smirk a little, though her voice shook a bit.

"Yes... good for you. She also wants me to stop torturing you."

Santana stayed silent, figuring it was too good to be true.

"But you and I both know it's not that simple."

"I hate you." The venom was thick in her voice and she finally looked at Quinn. She was no longer emaciated, her soft blonde hair was voluptuous and her lips were full. Those hazel eyes had become sharp and alert where they had once been dull. Quinn was back.

"I know." She frowned. "I don't know if I hate you."

"Right." Santana scoffed.

"No, really... I mean we say things like that all the time but I'm not sure if I'd be honest telling you I hated you. You're... what I always thought I wanted to be." Quinn silently cursed her therapist for making her more open. But then she knew it wasn't just opening up. She had already calculated the risk and Santana wouldn't be able to use any of this against her. It was too obscure and ridiculous for anyone to take seriously. Santana included.

"Is there a point to all this bullshit you're feeding me?"

"Yeah. I've got no motivation for breaking you. Rachel is fine. No one is going to touch her. You're not going to touch her."

"How do you know that?"

"You know..." Quinn smiled, her eyes going distant. "When we first met... what was it... grade two?"

"Grade three..."

"Yeah. I thought you were so cool." Quinn laughed at the memory while Santana's jaw dropped open. She quickly snapped her mouth shut, embarrassed.

"I wasn't aware the almighty Queen Fabray could find anyone cooler than herself."

"Never said I thought you were cooler than me." But she smirked, playing with the hem of her shirt. "But yeah, I did. You like, beat up that boy. Can't remember his name. He was two grades above us."

"Skeezy Scott Handle."

"Oh Lord... yes him. You beat him up good. Even as a kid you had the biggest balls in school."

Santana managed to keep the smile off her face. Quinn was being weirdly affectionate. Their friendship was never that close – except for Santana popping her cherry.

"I'm willing to call truce, Santana. I never even wanted to get back into all this. I wouldn't have if you didn't humiliate Rachel so bad."

"So... I can go back to being head bitch in charge?" Santana cursed herself for even asking.

"Oh no... you're never going to get that back." There was a mischievous glint in Quinn's eye. "Your balls are too big for you. Can't trust you to control yourself. But I tell you what; you can go back to being _my _bitch like before." At Santana's scowl, she raised an eyebrow. "I'm still pissed at you for what you did. I may not hate you but I don't like you either. That I'm even offering you this much is a gift."

Quinn got up from the bench and adjusted her jacket.

"You're not just offering me some gift Fabray, I'm no idiot."

"Oh, I've got plans." She smirked. "I'm holding you responsible for anything that happens to Rachel from this point on. Believe me when I say if there's ever a next time, I'm going to fully fuck you over."

With a little wave, Quinn walked away. If Santana was truly honest with herself, Quinn had finally earned her respect. She had fought Quinn on even grounds and lost. She didn't even have the urge to seek revenge. Besides, Quinn would just take her down if she ever tried.

Santana would never be honest with herself enough to admit that Quinn was kind of hot when she was on top.

****

When Quinn came home that day she was flushed with excitement. She had done what was asked of her. Rachel would stop the silent treatment and maybe they could hang out a bit. She had been wondering how to approach their relationship. The intimacy and intensity of their first time together had freaked her out the next morning. But as time went by and her therapy continued, she had started relaxing more.

Rachel made her feel safe; there was no need to be afraid of that. Quinn had also become more independent and healthy. Her therapist had told her a while back that she would know when she was ready and how much. She was certain that she was well past the hand holding and cuddling stage. Maybe she wasn't ready for sex with Rachel again, the emotional component was still too raw, but she wanted to go on dates. Kiss a little. Start off small and work their way up.

But Rachel wasn't home, which was odd. Hiram told her that Rachel was off at Brittany's.

Sighing to herself, she went to her room and cracked open a textbook. As time went by she started to get a little anxious. It wasn't like Rachel to stay out so late. Quinn heard her come home around midnight and go straight to her own bedroom without saying anything.

Instinct told her something bad had happened. She apprehensively made her way to Rachel's room and knocked. A soft voice told her to come in.

Rachel was digging through her dresser for a change of clothes. She wouldn't look at Quinn.

"Hey... I uhh... talked to Santana." Rachel didn't look up. Quinn could smell Brittany on her. "I've also come up with a way to get everyone to stop harassing her without making myself look like a total spaz."

"Oh. That's great." Rachel laid out the clothes on her bed without looking at Quinn.

"Yeah." Quinn squirmed where she stood, sensing the tension. "Are you alright?"

Rachel stopped moving.

"No."

"What happened?"

"I...." She could hear Rachel swallow before she turned to look at Quinn. "I kind of... I ended up... getting intimate with Brittany."

If anyone had asked Quinn how she felt upon hearing those words, she really wouldn't have known how to reply. The shock made her emotionless.

"What?"

Rachel knew the statement didn't need repeating.

"I'm sorry."

"You slept. With Brittany."

"It's not like that. I just..."

"Slept with Brittany. While I was out doing _whatever the fuck you wanted from me._" Her composure slipped. Her anger was sickening. Rachel cringed.

"I don't know what to say."

"I stayed up for you. Worried." Rachel's face fell and a sheen of tears made her eyes glow. It pissed Quinn off even more. How _dare _she cry?

"I-I'm sorry. But I don't even know what we are togeth-"

"Oh fuck you! You wouldn't feel so goddamn guilty if we didn't mean _something!_ What the hell, Man-hands?!"

"Quinn." Quinn faltered as the nickname brought back some of Rachel's strength. "I said I was sorry. We're both dealing with emotional and relationship issues! You know our time together means a lot to me – Quinn!"

She turned around abruptly and left the room, left Rachel to blather on about their 'issues' and was almost out the front door when Rachel grabbed her arm.

"Quinn..." she whispered, so as not to awaken her fathers. "I've never been with anyone before; we are too young to settle down so quickly."

Quinn tried to tug her arm away, but Rachel's grip was too firm. The pleading tone in Rachel's voice was tearing apart her resolve and anger.

"I care about you so much, I really do! Believe me, I would do a lot for you. The things you've been through and how you've changed.... I didn't mean to hurt you, that's why I was so honest about it... Brittany is our friend; she wouldn't want to hurt you either. We should talk about this. Please Quinn, we need to talk about what we want and need from each other..."

Quinn softened, unable to ignore the voice that could caress her more intimately than a hand possibly could. And that's when a peculiar scent reached her brain and she looked at the hand wrapped around her bicep. Bile rose in her throat and her eyes flashed so dangerously Rachel froze.

"Get your cunt reeking hand the _fuck _off me you freak." Her tone was low and cutting. Rachel released her immediately and Quinn walked out of the door. She tapped into her inner bitch and slapped her mask back on so hard and fast she felt a little dazed. Rachel's voice was lost to her, she was unable to hear anything but the rage pulsing through her blood.

She made it three blocks before she realised she had nowhere to go and it was nearly one in the morning. She popped open her cell phone and dialed a number by heart.

"Yeah? Who the hell is calling this late?" The voice on the other end of the phone sounded groggy.

"Santana, you get in your fucking car and you pick me up NOW. Do you hear me?!" She was almost hysterical. Going back into Rachel's house was _not _an option.

Santana, half drunk and half asleep, sobered up at Quinn's commanding voice. It was amazing how quickly she stepped back into her role as Quinn's number two. It was just natural for them.

"Okay. Where you at?"

****

Somehow, even drunk, Santana managed to get them back to her place in one piece without getting caught by the cops. Quinn had refused to speak during the ride so Santana was feeling pretty bitchy by the time they got to her house. Patience was not her forte.

Santana's room was a bit of a mess. Clothes were strewn about and one tiny lamp was all that gave the room any lighting.

Santana lasted long enough to close the door of her bedroom but before Quinn could so much as sit on the tiny twin bed the Latina rounded on her.

"You want to tell me what the hell is going on now? I mean seriously, seeing you once a day is painful enough but calling me up at one in the morning? You can call me your bitch all you want Fabray but I have my limits. I am not a dog at your beck –"

"Rachel and Brittany fucked each other."

"-and... call... what?"

If Quinn weren't so pissed at that moment she would have laughed at the stunned look on Santana's face. It was almost cute, the way her mouth hung open and her eyebrows rose.

"They had sex together."

"Oh." Santana frowned. "Eww."

Quinn blinked a few times, her anger dissipating.

"Eww? Your girlfriend just slept with my... Rachel. And all you can say is 'eww'?"

"Well... I guess Rachel isn't that bad. I mean, okay, she can be kinda hot sometimes. If she wasn't so obnoxious and had better fashion sense..."

"You... wait... what are you talking about?" Quinn felt struck by sudden vertigo. Santana wasn't half as enraged as Quinn thought she would be. "Your girlfriend cheated on you."

"Cheat?" Santana scoffed. "No, we're not like that. We can see other people." Her face fell a little. "Just like... it's been a while since we saw each other. Bitch screwed me over."

"I'm missing something. A lot of something." Quinn rubbed her temples.

"Britt knew you guys were together and let me slushie Rachel."

"What?!" Her head jerked up violently.

"Yeah." Santana sat down next to Quinn. "Said she thought I would figure it out. But even when I didn't, she let me slushie her."

"Why would she do that?"

"I don't know... some bullshit." She smirked a little. "Said I _needed _you."

"So you just let Brittany fuck around."

"I don't let her do anything. We sleep together, we sleep with other people, and everything is fine. We always come back to each other."

"I see." Quinn's hurt, anger and jealousy resurfaced in an instant. "Your slut of a girlfriend put ideas into Rachel's head."

"Watch it." Santana stiffened.

Quinn ignored the warning.

"That a retard like Britt managed to convince Rachel –" she grunted as she suddenly found herself flat on her back on the floor, Santana hovering over her.

"I don't give a fuck what you say or do to me. Leave Brittany out of it." Santana's knuckles were white from clenching themselves in fists.

"Leave her out of it? She brought herself in! I know you're obsessively protective of your slow girlfriend but she's not going to come out of this all rainbows and sunshine. Bitch needs to learn a lesson."

Santana's dark eyes flashed and it was Quinn's only warning before Santana suddenly leapt on top of her, straddling her. Quinn tried to cry out but Santana shoved her fist into her mouth to keep her from waking up the house. She bit into Santana's hand as hard as she could and earned herself a deep punch in the stomach. Quinn's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she groaned pitifully.

"I told you to shut the fuck up about her!" Santana snarled. "Just because you couldn't keep your lunatic girlfriend from spreading her legs isn't her fault! Ah!" She tried to keep herself from being too loud as Quinn grabbed at her ponytail and jerked her head to the side.

Quinn flipped them over so she was on top and yanked her head back to get Santana's hand out of her mouth. The taste of blood in her mouth disgusted her but before she could think clearly Santana slapped her hard across the face.

"Ahhhh fuck..." she hissed as her cheek burned. She looked down to see Santana smirking up at her. Quinn bared her teeth and punched Santana in the gut. It wasn't nearly as effective as when Santana did it to her.

"Fabray, you really need to work on your upper body." With that, Santana wrapped her thighs tight around Quinn's waist, squeezing hard. Quinn groaned. "You're out of shape, Cheerio."

Quinn glared at Santana through her pain. Her damn legs were like steel. She had no leverage to win this. Socially, Quinn could take Santana down, but a one-on-one fight was not Quinn's style. Santana was the fighter.

So she did what little she could, leaning over to bury her fingers into Santana's hair and pulling hard, making her pony tail come undone. Santana moaned and although her own hands were free, she merely used her hands to flip them over once more.

"Remember this you stupid cunt?"

Quinn froze, realising Santana was way too close to her face. Those legs loosened but were still on either side of her. Images of the past flashed in her mind. Then Rachel. Anger flooded her mind.

"Yeah I remember. Think you'll be as obedient this time around?"

The rage in Santana's eyes startled her but then, Quinn had been her tormentor for the past few months. Santana had had to walk home covered in shit, blood and piss because of her.

"Let go of my hair." Her right hand gripped Quinn's jaw hard, pressing her head into the floor. When Quinn refused to comply, she reached down with her other hand and pressed her ramrod fingers into Quinn's stomach.

The hands in her hair loosened. They spent a good ten minutes fighting each other as they stripped one another of their clothes. Quinn ended up with more bruises and Santana had an angry bite mark above her breast. When they were both naked, Santana somehow moved them onto the small bed.

The battle continued. Lips were bruised with vicious kisses, Santana's back was clawed, and Quinn's hips were left with dark imprints of Santana's touch. And they hadn't even started fucking yet.

Santana groaned when Quinn's fingers wound themselves in her hair again and jerked her up. When she opened her eyes she saw that Quinn was staring at her with an expression she couldn't read. It made her stomach feel weird.

"What is it?" Her voice was hoarse. The grip on her hair tightened. Hard.

"Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Fuck me with all you've got." It was almost a sigh.

Santana had never gotten so wet in her entire life. Without a word, she grabbed one of her throw pillows off a nearby chair and shoved it into Quinn's mouth. Quinn adjusted it so more of it fit in her mouth. Santana's mouth watered as Quinn raised her arms above her head and linked them at the wrist.

Three fingers without warning. Quinn was so ready Santana slipped in with ease. She set the rhythm hard and fast, savouring every strangled moan and gasp. As Quinn writhed, Santana had to use her other hand to squeeze Quinn's wrists in place. She slipped in a fourth finger. It was a tighter fit and she needed to move more slowly, to gain momentum. But she ignored the pained noise Quinn made in the back of her throat and kept going.

Eventually Quinn was mewling at her mercy. But it wasn't enough. Quinn wanted all she had. Brittany was never this rough, never wanted it that painful, no one she had been with ever did. Santana let go of Quinn's wrists.

"Hold onto the headboard." Quinn didn't open her eyes, didn't even move, just made a frustrated noise when Santana stopped working her. "I said hold onto the headboard you stupid fuck!" She slapped Quinn again, awakening her from her stupor. Glazed, hazel eyes looked at her dumbly before Quinn grabbed onto the headboard.

Santana situated herself between Quinn's legs, her other hand bracing against Quinn's hip. She stared at Quinn as she pulled out her hand and grabbed some lube from the drawer at her bedside table. As she lathered her hand she watched fear flicker through her eyes but Quinn didn't do anything, just tightened her hold on the wooden headboard.

Three fingers were easy enough; the fourth gave less resistance than before. Santana couldn't tear her eyes away from Quinn's, the two of them staring each other down as Santana pushed forward. Quinn's breathing quickened and she spread her legs wider, trying to relax the muscles in her thighs. Both of them were having difficulty keeping their breaths even as Santana pushed past the knuckles and started edging her thumb in. One birth was not enough to loosen Quinn that much; Santana had to slow herself down to a crawl, pulling in and out at an agonizing pace. Their bodies broke out into a sweat as Santana very slowly pushed in a little more each time, just a little deeper, making Quinn open up for her, until her whole fist fit inside. Quinn was panting so hard Santana waited to make sure the girl didn't pass out.

When Quinn was more composed, Santana decided to stop being so nice. Her impatience came back. She wanted to explore. So she closed her eyes and stretched her hand, ignoring Quinn's choked gasp. It was soft, hot and wet... parts of it were firm, with little ridges. She twisted her hand around, making Quinn cry out sharply through the pillow.

"Shhh...shh shh." She ignored Quinn's whimpering, still mesmerized. Her other hand shifted to Quinn's clit and started stroking slowly while she pushed a little deeper, making the blonde keen a little.

"If you don't stop whining, I'm going to pull out and toss you out on the street."

Quinn tried to limit herself to her breathing, her hands were almost entirely white as she clutched the only thing that kept her grounded to the earth: Santana's headboard. She wasn't sure if Santana would really kick her out. But she was in no frame of mind to think clearly. She hadn't even thought of Rachel since they ended up on the bed. Rachel and Brittany were off somewhere in reality. All that was happening now was Santana.

Her lower half was on fire. A delicious, painfully pleasurable fire that was as punishing as it was cleansing. The bitch she wanted to be was fucking her. She would forgive Santana for being true to herself and being what Quinn had failed to be but could have been great at. She would accept her punishment from Santana, for her failure. And for not having the balls to finish Santana off like she knew Santana would have if their roles were reversed.

Santana started moving faster and Quinn could taste the stuffing of the pillow in her mouth as she squeezed her eyes so tightly that stars danced under her lids. Her breath came out shallow and steady at first as she just focused on feeling so damn _full _and sopping wet. She could feel the bumps of Santana's knuckles and when Santana twisted her hand a certain way, Quinn couldn't stop the high pitched noise that escaped her. She bucked, making the fist slide within her and she groaned. She couldn't help it, everything was building up and the noise wasn't going to go away.

Santana was out of her mind. She couldn't believe what was happening. The slapping noise of her fist in Quinn was getting louder and faster. She grabbed the edge of a blanket and wrapped it around Quinn's waist to muffle the noise. She wouldn't suffocate her, but she had to stop the noise somehow.

She couldn't help herself; she leaned down under the covers and wrapped her mouth around Quinn's clit, lapping at it with her tongue and relishing the taste as Quinn started moving even faster. Santana stopped moving her hand and just let Quinn ride her. It made her dizzy, how Quinn would speed up, stop, dip her hips low so more of Santana's hand buried into her, then pull up and speed up again. Santana was whimpering into Quinn's sex while Quinn was almost sobbing.

When Quinn finally started moving even faster and Santana could feel her sex wrapping tighter around her fist, trying to hold her in... Santana stretched her hand out as much as she could. She thought it was over, Quinn was going to scream and her mom or brothers were going to run into the room. But Santana had balls and she didn't give a fuck. There was no way she was _not _going to do this.

Quinn felt the whole world explode. In a moment of brief lucidity she grabbed the pillow over her head and buried her nose in it as she screamed. Santana pulled away from Quinn's clit and grit her teeth as Quinn's walls tightened hard around her fist, fluttering rapidly. Quinn twitched and bucked as she came down off her high, coming just a little every time her muscles spasmed.

Santana slowly slid her hand out, pausing whenever Quinn lurched and jumped. Eventually her coated hand found freedom.

When she got up from under the blanket, she took in the way Quinn looked exhausted and satisfied. She smirked.

"My turn..." she echoed from the past. Quinn raised a lazy eyebrow then slowly sat up, wincing a little.

"How do you want me?" She asked, making something clench deep within Santana. No one would ever know that sometimes, Santana liked to think about the first time they fucked when she touched herself. It was the idea of making Quinn react; making the Queen Fabray _her _little bitch that got her off. A lot.

"On the floor. On your knees."

Quinn looked at her like it was a tall order to fill; after all, she had just been stretched past her limits. Santana didn't care.

"I wasn't asking." Santana grabbed her by the nape of her neck and yanked her to the floor, grateful that Quinn's agility wasn't subpar. They were really making too much noise. Quinn made a whining noise as she painfully got to her knees, then settled between Santana's legs as Santana sat on the edge of the bed.

"You're gonna eat me." She gasped when Quinn jumped forward eagerly, latching her mouth onto Santana's sex. She watched from above as Quinn's head moved.

"Fffffffuck yes..... yes.... on your hands a... and knees.... shit..." Quinn did as she was told. If Santana hadn't just spent the last half hour fisting her, she would have been able to last longer. But her hand was still lathered up and smelling of Quinn. She could still hear Quinn

_How do you want me?_

"A-ass up in the air." Quinn adjusted, her back arching. "Moan for me bitch...." Santana could feel Quinn more than she could hear her and within a minute she had fallen back on the bed and was biting through her fist to keep from crying out as Quinn's tongue mercilessly ate away at her while she moaned over and over again.

"Fuck...." She shuddered when it was over. They were panting; Quinn had fallen over on the floor.

"Get up." Quinn made a noise of protest. "I said... get up. Lock the door." Santana watched in amazement as Quinn stumbled to the door and locked it. "Good. Get back over here."

Quinn managed to drag herself back to the bed; Santana had already positioned herself on the right side. When she collapsed in it, smelling of sex and Santana, she felt pretty good.

"What... what now?" Quinn asked, feeling stupid and a little lost.

"What now?" Santana gave her a look. "Now you're my girlfriend. I'll pick you up for dinner on Friday. Then we'll move in together. You're going to propose to me. You're going to want some god awful extravagant spring-summer wedding. But I'm telling you now we're going to elope in Vegas in the winter."

"Why winter?"

"'Cause it's hotter in Vegas."

They both burst out laughing, high off everything they had done. They stayed silent for a while, both of them watching the ceiling.

"I still hate you."

"I still don't like you."

"I don't hate you as much as I used to." Santana amended.

"I like you a little better too."

"Don't think this makes things okay with you and me. You fucked me over big time."

"You're just jealous you didn't think of doing it first."

Santana turned to glare at her but said nothing, making Quinn smile serenely. It was true, Santana wasn't even sure just how pissed off she would be if it were anyone other than her rival who fucked her over.

"Whatever."

Quinn shifted on her side, snuggling up into Santana, which didn't feel as uncomfortable as either girl thought it would.

"What do I do about Rachel and Brittany?"

"Well..." Santana paused. "I'm going to patch things up with Britt. She's mine."

Quinn felt an irrational urge to shove Santana off the bed. But really, she had less of a claim to Santana than she did Rachel, and even that claim was in question. So she sighed instead.

"If you've got something good with Rachel, you shouldn't ditch it. Though I'm going to miss fucking you senseless."

Quinn laughed, wincing a little as some of the sore muscles in her body complained.

"How can you miss it, you've only done it twice."

"So you admit I've fucked you senseless." Quinn looked up to see Santana with a huge shit-eating grin on her face.

"Senseless being the key word." Quinn rolled her eyes.

"I don't know what to tell you... I don't have this problem. If I want to fuck you, I can. If I want to fuck someone else, I can. Brittany will always be there for me."

"Sounds great for you. I don't think I'm the kind of person who can do that."

Santana nodded a little, her eyes drooping.

"It's not for everyone." Her fingers played with Quinn's hair, making Quinn aware of just how drowsy she was.

"Mmm...guess not.... but I think Rachel wants it.... says we're too young for this."

"You can give it a try... see how it goes...." Santana yawned. "If you need comfort sex... well, go to Brittany."

Quinn stiffened against her.

"I wouldn't go anywhere near her." Her anger, though milder after the orgasm, was still there. Santana chuckled softly.

"You only say that 'cause she's never tried to have you... What Brittany wants, she gets. If you're looking for great comfort sex, go to her.... If you want, like... harder stuff...come to me."

Santana didn't realise Quinn was blushing and feeling confused.

"I think we should go to sleep now," she said, her small voice barely reaching Santana's sleepy ears. She couldn't believe that Santana had just offered her sex on call. And then offered her Brittany, too. It was getting too weird.

"M'kay babe. Sssssssleep time now."

Quinn lay there awake for another hour, wondering just what alternate universe she had landed in where she lay naked in bed with Santana after learning Rachel Berry – social reject – broke her heart by sleeping with Brittany – her normally sweet and wonderful cheerleading friend.

Life was fucked up. In the morning, she would try and sort things out and decide just how pissed off she was going to be. At the moment though, she settled on top of Santana's body, marvelling at the toned muscle that gave way under her. One last thought came up in her mind before she relaxed and Santana sleepily wrapped her arms around her black and blue body.

_That was fucking fantastic. _


End file.
